#this metal and plastic gets to be part of me for a brief shining moment

[scalar]

every time i do an injection i understand brandon cronenberg and herbert west a little better

[gardens-light]

Captured

A weapon’s demonstration goes wrong, resulting in Tony Stark getting kidnapped and held hostage by an criminal organization, only known as ‘The Ten Rings.’ With his captures demanding that Tony builds a weapon of mass destruction. It’s up to Tony and his unlikely friends to survive and find a way out...

Content- Spoilers for the first film of ‘Iron Man.’ ( I know it’s old and most people have seen it, but thought to add it anyway.) Y/C= Your Country. Course Language.

Part 2

Word count: 7,342. (It is quite long. But hopefully impactful. If you think this should be cut into a mini-series, please let me know. Any and all feedback is appreciated.)

A low groan echoing throughout the cave caught your attention. Your gaze briefly leaving the pages of your book, as Yinsen looked at Stark's reflection through a broken mirror shard.

"He's awake." 

"Of course he's awake" you replied with a sarcastic tone. Turning your attention back on the pages of your book. 

"How much do you wanna bet he'll ask countless of questions?"

A small smile came to your friend's face as he carefully shaved his jaw. 

Tony's eyes blinked multiple times as he tried to gather his bearings. Laying down upon the army cot bed. His fingers tracing over his nostrils, feeling the tube which caused his discomfort. A groan and a few coughs escaped him, as he pulled the tube from his nose. Tony's face twisted in disgust, as he felt the thin plastic crawl up his windpipe with each tug. Ripping off the masking tape which held it against the bridge of his nose. His eyes darted around. Trying to find some form of familiarity. 

Patting around on the make shift table beside him, knocking off a small cup of water onto the earthy floor. Turning onto his side, Tony caught a glimpse of Yinsen. Happily humming to himself as he continued to shave with a blunt razor. Then scanning over to you, silently minding your own business, as your mind got lost in the pages of a fantasy book. Yinsen saw Tony attempting to roll of the army bed through the mirror.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." 

Hesitating for a brief moment, Tony heeded Yensin's warning. Rolling onto his back and turning his head slightly to the right, fear crept up his back as the sight of a car battery stood near him. With wide eyes and panicky breath, Tony's hands ran down the wires which connected to the battery. His shocked gaze looking down at himself, frantically pulling and ripping the bandages that covered his chest. Tony's eyes widened even more, fear shining through his dark eyes, as dread filled his body. An unsteady breath slipped through, as a medium sized ring pierced through his dirty flesh. Inside the ring was a magnet staring up at him. 

Tony laid in the cot for several more minutes, allowing the dread and disbelieve wash over him. Your eyes flickered off the pages for a brief moment, cautiously watching Stark with a studious stare, as he made his way towards you. Only the sound of Yensin's whistling tune echoed throughout the cave, disturbing the small silence. The fire danced in the reflection of his oval glasses, as he stirred the soup. Tony sat across from you, slouching against a rock and placing the car battery onto the floor. 

"What the hell did you do to me?" Tony's shaky tone questioned. His eyes still shining with fear, as he examined the magnet sticking out of the middle of his chest. 

Yinsen chuckled, "what did I do? What i did was to save your life." 

Placing your book aside, and accepting a bowl of soup that Yensin handed to you. You both exchanged smiles, as he continued. 

"I removed all the shrapnel as I could. But unfortunately, there's still a lot left, and it's headed into your atrial septum. Here wanna see?" 

With his free hand, Yensin's reached out towards a dusty table upon his right. Picking up a small glass vile, showing Tony the small fragments of metal shrapnel. Tony carefully accepted the vile, his eyes briefly flickering to you, as you watched the pair of them. 

"It's a souvenir. Take a look" Yinsen's kind and polite tone continued. "I've seen many wounds like that in my village. We call them, 'The Walking Dead.' Because it takes about a week, for the barbs to enter the vital organs-" 

"What is this?" Tony's flat voice cut him off. 

You rolled your eyes, "that's an electromagnet." 

You assumed Tony referred to the magnet within his chest. The billionaire's cautious stare turned to you. Watching you place your empty bowl near Yinsen, and poking the fire with a scrap metal pole. 

"It's hooked up to a car battery." Your voice was flat and unsympathetic. "And it's keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart. You have Yenshin to thank for that." 

Tony's posture shifted uncomfortably, as Yenshin tried to comfort him with a warm smile. He saw Tony's eyes shift to the camera above. 

"That's right. Smile." 

Yenshin chuckled to himself. "We met once, y'know? At a technical conference in Bern-" 

"I don't remember." 

Tony saw you and Yensin flash another smile at one another. A small chuckle left you, as Yenshin continued his little ramble. 

"Oh no, you wouldn't. If I had been that drunk, I wouldn't have been able to stand. Much less give a lecture on integrated circuits-" 

"Where are we?-" 

The sound of a heavy lock unlocking cut off Tony's question. He saw you and Yenshin quickly shift into a surrendering pose, standing upon your feet and placing your hands behind your head. You tried to control your breathing, as Yensin fussed over Tony. Getting him to stand and follow your lead, as the large metal doors- the only entrance and exit to the cave begun to open.

Heavy armed men entered the cave. Some wearing army camo, while others wore layers of tattered clothing, which protected their bodies from the harsh elements of the outside world. Tony struggled onto his feet, as Yensin yanked him up. Tony's wide eyed stare shifted from person to person.  

"Those are my guns. How did they get my guns?-" 

"Shut up!" You hissed through your teeth. "Just shut up, and do as we do!" 

A shaky breath left your parted lips. Attempting to remain calm, as multiple men, armed with heavy duty guns with 'Stark Industries' written along the barrels. Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach, as their weapons faced you three. Trigger happy fingers ready to pull at a moments notice. Emerging from the group, a rather tall man walked into the space. Black hair shaved down into a buzz cut, while grey hairs highlighted his full facial hair.

Heavy jacket and trousers, patterned in green army camo framed his pudgy frame. He approached your space, speaking in Arabic and once finished gesturing towards Yensin to translate. 

“Welcome Tony Stark. The most famous mass murderer in the history of America.”

The pudgy individual beamed a cheerful smile, as he spoke a quick sentence before gesturing to himself.

“He’s honoured.” Yenshin quickly translated, before the man continued his ramblings. “He wants you to build a missile. The ‘Jericho Missile’ that you demonstrated.”

He handed Yensin a photograph of a heavy duty machine, which held three large missiles. Your stomach twisted in an uncomfortable knot, swallowing your nerves. As you were aware of the weapon’s capability.

“This one” Yensin simply spoke. Showing Tony the photograph.

You saw the billionaire's features twist in disgust. His brows knitted together. Yensin's Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, swallowing his nerves. As he hesitated to translate Tony’s sentence in Arabic. 

“He refuses...”

Obviously disgusted and not amused by Tony’s reply. An angry expression flashed across the man’s face, as he yelled demands at two of the nearest men. They lowered their weapons, grabbing Tony’s biceps in vice like grip, and dragging him aside. The two restrained him, as the pudgy man grabbed a fistful of Tony’s hair, forcing his head into a sink filled with water. 

You turned your head, closing your eyes. Trying to block out Tony’s gargled screams and yells, as their leader yelled his demands at Tony. After a few moments, the bearded individual placed a straw bag over Tony’s head. The two men who held his biceps, forcefully moved him out of the cave. Turning his attention onto you and Yensin, gesturing you two to follow...

The sunray’s blinded your eyes as you exited the cave, the desert heat and harsh wind was cruel to your sensitive skin. The bag was roughly pulled from Tony’s head, the sudden daylight hurting his eyes. As he was shoved forward down the sandy path. Once Tony’s vision cleared, his eyes widened in shock as he walked down the path, taking in the sight of the high sandy dunes and rocky terrain. The camp littered with his weapons, all heavy duty and military graded. 

Tony held the car battery under one arm, with you and Yensin beside him. As the man from before, begun to speak and gesture towards the camp.

“He wants to know what you think.” Yensin’s voice was low as he turned towards Tony. 

A frown formed upon Tony’s lips, his brows knitting together. “I think he has a lot of my weapons.”

Yensin and the man spoke in Arabic, the convocation going back and forth. Only being interrupted by Yensin’s translation to Tony.

“He says, they have everything you need to build the Jericho missile.” Yensin explained. “He wants you to make a list of materials, and to start working immediately. Once you’re finished, he’ll set you free.”

Tony pulled a fake smile, shaking the man’s hand. “No he wont.”

“No... he wont.” You and Yensin agreed...

Night fell, along with a cold harsh wind swept across the camp. Although the fire pit within the cave kept most of the cold out, the chill could still be felt in other areas. The three of you huddled around the fire, you saw Tony’s lifeless eyes watch the flames flicker and dance. As Yensin tried to talk sense into him. 

“Look what you saw today. That is your legacy, Stark. Your life’s work, in the hands of those murders-”

“He doesn't care, Yensin.” You sighed. “He’s just waiting for his military buddies to come find him. Well guess what Stark, they won’t find you in these mountains-”

“Our survival depends on him-”

“Exactly! And look how well it’s turned out so far!” you snapped. Throwing your cup aside, causing water to splash everywhere. Tony watched you leave and approached one of the army, cot beds. Yensin sighed as he continued. 

“Look... is this how you want to go out, Stark? Is this the last act of defiance of the ‘great’ Tony Stark? Or are you doing to do something about it?-”

“Why should I do anything?” Tony voice was low. No life or confidence within his voice. Just a hopeless flat tone, “They’re going to kill me, you, her, either way. And if they don’t, I’ll probably be dead within a week.”

“Well then... this is an important week for you...”

The next day was a full hustle. Men and women came in and out of the cave, all carrying tools, equipment, machines- anything and everything Tony said to them. You directed some of the groups, and helped place certain items, as Yensin stood beside Tony. Translating everything he said into Arabic. 

“How many languages do you speak?” Tony asked Yensin, as he took apart one of the missiles that casually stood on a wooden table in the centre of the cave.

“A lot” Yensin’s voice simply replied. “Y/N can speak many languages too- but even with both of our knowledge, it’s apparently not enough for this place.”

Tony’s eyes flickered towards you, as you sat upon the end of the table. His eyes dropped back down to his work, Yensin continued talking.

“Here they speak Arabic, Urdu, Dari, Pashto, Mongolian, Farsi, Russian-”

“Who are these people?”

“’They’ are your loyal customers, sir” your sarcastic tone filled the air, as Tony took out the inside of the missile. “They call themselves ‘The Ten Rings’” 

Tony scoffed at the name, causing you to frown. 

You watched him to continue working on the missile. Taking things apart, carelessly chucking unwanted bits over his shoulder, using second hand and scary looking D.I.Y power tools. You and Yensin looked at each other, both speechlessly acknowledging Tony’s arrogant behaviour. 

“I’ve told you. He doesn’t give a shit” You muttered, still sitting on the edge of the table. A spanner casually twirling around in your fingers. 

“We need to be hopeful, and work as a team.” 

You scoffed at your friend’s words. “Team? Haha, yeah right. That playboy knows nothing about teamwork.”

You raised an eyebrow, as Yensin silently gesturing for you to watch his lead, as he approached Tony’s side, whom still tinkered with odd bits and pieces. 

“Y’know we might be more productive, if you include us in the planning process.”

But all Yensin got was a simple, “uh-huh” from the billionaire. 

Your friend’s worried eyes met your ‘I-Told-You-So-Expression’, before Tony took the tip of the missile off and removing the inside. Tossing a wheel of glass and plastic bits over his shoulder, missing you by inches. Yensin looked up at Tony, as he held a small fragment of what looked like a regular metal shard. 

“This is palladium. 0.15 grams. We need at least 1.6 grams, so why don’t you go and break down the other eleven?” 

“Would it hurt you to say ‘please’?” 

Tony looked over his shoulder at you. A sigh leaving his mouth, before turning back to his secret project. “Could you please, break down the other eleven?” 

Yensin left Tony’s side and silently gestured you to follow him. Tony heard the low bickering between you and Yensin, as he turned his back and continued on with his work.

Hours rolled by, watching Tony and Yensin work together to build whatever it was Tony had plans for- but one thing you did know. It wasn’t anything related to the missile...

Sitting upon the army cot bed, your attention left the pages of your book. Watching Yensin carefully hold a smouldering cup, with a pair of iron looking tongs. 

“Careful. Careful. We’ve only got one shot at this.” Tony’s rasp voice begun to sound a little more polite. Causing your friend to smile. 

“Relax. I have steady hands.” Yensin assured, “why do you think you’re still alive?” 

Tony returned his smile, as Yensin carefully poured the melted palladium into a circular mould. “Sorry but... what’s your names again?”

“My name is Yensin. And behind us is, Y/N.”

“Yensin... Y/N... nice to meet you.”

Tony looked up at you, seeing your slight smile that teased the corners of your mouth. “Nice to meet you too...”

The chill wind that crept through the crack of the metal door, hinted that night has fallen outside. A yawn escaped from Tony, as he stretched his body. Leaning back against the wooden chair. A little sneeze from you disturbed the still air, causing him to look over his shoulder. He guessed that it must be the late hours of the night, since Yensin was already asleep in one of the cot beds. 

The flickering of the lights in the cave, broke your attention from your book. Looking around, your curious gaze fell upon Tony. A gentle blue glow from the work bench showed his weak smile, you watched his muscles loosen and relax. As his posture slouched in the chair, his head only perking up when he noticed you approaching him. 

“That... doesn’t look like a Jericho missile.”

“That’s because it’s a miniaturized arc reactor.” Tony softly explained, as he stretched his back. “I’ve got a big one powering my factory at home. Hopefully this should keep the shrapnel out of my heart.”

“Something like this could generate anything.” Your bewildered gaze met Tony’s calm expression. “But what?”

He pulled a sly smile, a smile you’ve grown to know that he was planning something.

“If my math is correct. And it always is. Three gigajoules per second.”

Your eyes widened, jaw almost hitting the floor. “That could run your heart for fifty lifetimes.” Your tone filled with disbelief.

He bit is bottom lip, “or something big for fifteen minutes.”

You raised an eyebrow as Tony collected scraps of tracing paper. And laid them on top of one another. “This is our ticket out of here.”

Carefully looking at the designs, your soft confused gaze glancing over the pages. “What is it?”

“Flatten them out and look.” Straightening out the pieces of paper, Tony relieved the design of a rough suit made of sheets of metal. Labelled with parts, weapons, measurements, and how many pieces this thing was going to have. Covering an individual from head to toe. 

“Impressive...”

Tony sighed, “well... I guess that’s enough for one day... afternoon... whatever time it is.”  

A small chuckle left you, as you made your way back to the firepit. Getting ready to settle on the floor again. 

“Trouble in paradise?”    

You raised an eyebrow at Tony’s teasing tone. A small chuckle left him, as he attempted to explain himself. 

“You’re not with Yensin tonight. So... I assumed-”

Your cough suddenly startled him, as you broke into giggles of disbelief. 

“Me and Yensin? No! No! Please never assume anything!-”

“Oh... but you two seem so close.” Tony spoke, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m no closer to him than you are” you said between giggles. Your laughter slowly dying down. “He’s just a good friend. Saved me from these assholes.”

“How? Where you from?”

“I’m from Y/C. Plucked from my home, and brought here. I met Yensin here” you gestured at the cave. “Our captures demanding us to read, translate and locate things. As we... helped them prepare things for your capture.”

You pulled an apologetic expression. Tony pulled a weak smile. 

“It’s alright.” He assured. “It was going to happen sooner or later... so ugh... How did Yensin save you?”

“I tried to sabotage one of their weapon crates. Got caught, and was close to having a bullet in my head. Yensin jumped in front of me, begged them to spare me. Promising that my knowledge is irreplaceable, and rivals his own.”

“Does it?”

You returned his warm smile, “no, of course not. I don’t know anymore or less than him. We’re both linguists.”

Tony nodded in agreement, as he reached out for a cup of water. Taking a few sips, before speaking. 

“So... where do you sleep? I’ve noticed there’s only two beds.”

You pointed at the ground. Tony pulled a disbelief look. 

“On the floor?” 

“It’s not that bad.” You assured, “I used to go camping when I was younger. It kinda feels like that.”

Tony straightened his posture, while rubbing the back of his neck. Clearing his throat before speaking, “we could... y’know, share a bed.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what?-”

“Well, now I know that a lady is sleeping on the floor. What kind of gentleman would I be if I allowed that to continue?”

You snorted at his remark. “A gentleman? Stark, please. We both know you’re many things. But certainly not a gentleman-”

“Why can’t I be? Because the media claims I’m not? Those are nothing but rumours- I assure you”

You watched him raise onto his feet. Holding out a hand to you, “let’s go to bed. I would like to show you how much of a gentleman, I can be.”

Despite how much you wanted to, you couldn’t deny that Tony had quite the charm. Even with his untidy hair, and roughly trimmed beared, the billionaire had something that was... chivalry about him. You tried to hide the shy smile that tugged on the corners of your mouth, trying to ignore the butterflies that fluttered within your stomach. As Tony lead you to the bed, you tried to get your hand out of his grip, as nerves filled you like a shy teenager.

Only releasing you as Tony approached the bed. Both of you silently laughed and exchanged smiles, as the gentle snores from Yensin filled the air. Lowering himself to the cot, and patting the small space beside him. You carefully climbed into the cot, both laying on your sides, facing one another. Tony held out an arm, for you to lay your head in the crook of his shoulder. Your face cuddling into his chest, as yours and his free arm wrapped around each others waist. Your legs entangling with his.

“Comfy?” 

“Uh-huh...”

Tony rested his chin gently against the top of your head. Closing his eyes, and listening to the sounds of your steady breathing...

Your eyes fluttered open a small sound of chatter awoke you. As you stretched, realizing that Tony wasn’t in the bed with you anymore. Laying upon your back, giving your limbs a final stretch, before rolling out of the cot and onto your feet. Tony’s kind eyes looked up at you, returning his smile as your sleepy gaze watched him and Yensin play chess out of nuts and bolts. 

“Hey, look who’s up.” Yensin kindly greeted, as Tony passed you a cup of weak, black coffee. 

You simply smiled, giving Tony a silent nod of gratitude, before sitting on the floor beside the board. Watching them deeply think about their next moves, as the pair continued their convocation.

“You still haven’t told me where you’re from.” Tony softly spoke. Moving the his bishop, taking Yensin’s pawn. 

You looked up at him, realizing it was information you wasn’t aware of either.

“I’m from a small town called, Gulmira.” Yensin simply answered, smiling both at you and Tony. “It’s actually a nice place.” 

“Got a family?”

“Yes. And I will see them again, when I leave here.”

Your smile widened, assuming Tony already filled him in about the plan of the iron suit. Yensin asked Tony the same question, but you watched the billionaire’s features soften. Only able to pull a weak smile, as he replied with, “no.”

Your heart sunk a little, seeing the realization and hurt upon Tony’s face. 

“So you’re a man who has everything... and yet nothing?-”

“I don’t have anyone either.” You quickly butted in, attempting to pull an convincing smile to the pair of them. “But it’s alright. Cause I’ll be leaving here with two friends."

"Oh! And Stark, your arc reactor! It’s in your chest!” He returned your warm smile, seeing your gentle gaze fall onto his clothed chest. The arc’s soft blue glow shining through the tattered fabric of his shirt. 

“Yeah... Yensin put it in this morning. Works like a charm.” 

Yensin raised an eyebrow, as you and Tony reached out for one another. Holding hands in silence, as you gazed into each others eyes...

Over the period of days, or possibly weeks- perhaps longer. The three of you worked together, you and Yensin carefully followed Tony’s designs of bringing the suit to life. Your waking hours consisted of welding, soldering wires, cutting scrap pieces of metal.

During the time you didn’t notice Yensin smiling at you and Tony, laughter and playful banters were often exchanged between the pair of you. He wouldn’t admit the flirtatious comments he’d hear in the middle of the night, as you and Tony cuddled. It seemed like only he was aware of what was blooming between the pair of you...

But despite finally finding hope and light in this dark situation, you couldn’t help but not be able to shake of the feeling of dread. This sinking feeling would kill the butterflies in your stomach, allowing an uncomfortable feeling creep up your spine and over your shoulders. You often expressed this ‘gut feeling’ to Tony, but he always cupped your face, soothing your thoughts and always ending in pulling you in for a tight hug. Patting your head, and planting a soft kiss on top of your head, in an attempt to calm your nerves. 

But as predicted, the aching hunch relieved itself... 

Faminular shouts demanded your attention from the other side of the metal door. While Yensin and Tony looked at one another with puzzled expressions, your breathing slowed to a shallow pace. Uncertainty and dread crawled up your back, as the heavy locks of the door unlocked and pushed open.

The boys imedictly stopped their wielding, and placed their hands behind their head. An muscle memory imbedded into your body at this point. Your posture switching from relaxed and working, to stiff and vulnerable.

The usual group of heavily armed individuals entered the cave. Their leader from before- the man of buzz cut hair and thick dark beard, which was highlighted with gray strains, lead the group. But it was the person behind him which caused your breathing to hitch a little. His dark eyes scanned the room carefully, painfully watching the three of you for a solid moment, before his eyes moved from one to the other.

Although his relaxed fingers fumbled and played with the onyx ring, upon his middle finger. His posture still was strong and course, clearly showing what he held that the other didn't... Authority.

"Relax."

His voice certainly wasn't the tone that someone would of used. It was more like a 'soft' command, rather than a suggestion.

The three of you slowly lowered your hands, your limbs returning to your side, as the bald individual wandered over to Tony. The billionaire's cautious gaze locked onto his, as his fingers brushed the tattered fabric of Tony's button down shirt aside. The gentle blue glow of the arc reactor dimly lit the greed, which hid in his dark eyes. Tony kept his breathing calm and regular, despite staring down at the individual.

"The bow and arrow, once was the pinnacle of weapons technology." He casually stepped away from Tony, his gaze hovering from Tony and now onto you. A sly smile came to his lips, as his gaze saw the slight tremble in your body, your posture shifting. A sickening knot twisted in your stomach, as you knew he was enjoyed this reaction from you.

As he walked away, after allowing his stare to uncomfortably linger over you for another minute. Tony slowly reached out for your hand, his fingers attempting to intertwine with yours.

"Don't." You hissed through your teeth, "that's Razar... he's the one in charge of this whole shit show..."

Razar's sly smile staid upon his lips, well aware of your muttered whisper, but not caring. He merely continued his rambles, while examining the contents of a nearby desk.

"It allowed the great Genghis Khan to rule from the Pacific, to the Ukraine. Creating an empire twice the size of Alexander the Great" his head cocked to the side, as a slight curious tone slipped into his last sentence. "And four times the size of the Roman Empire."

Tony's worried expression flashed between Razar and Yensin, as he casually looked at designs upon bits of tracing paper. Yensin tried to calm his friend's nerves, silently gesturing to remain calm.

"But today... whoever holds the latest Stark weapons rules these lands."

Your fingers tightened around Tony's hand, as Razar looked over his shoulder, his intimidating gaze narrowing on Yensin. "And soon... it be my turn..."

his body shifted and faced Yensin, his speech switching dialect as his gaze flickered between you and Tony, before fully landing onto Yensin. You heard his voice attempt to remain calm as he spoke.

"Translate for me, Honey."

How Tony could keep his composure throughout this ordeal never ceased to surprise you.

"Um... they're speaking in Urdu, give me a moment" you listened carefully, trying to find a way to sum up the conversation between Razar and Yensin. "Um, he's... questioning Yensin. Something about is this how he repays him, after allowing him and me to live."

You watched the two interact with one another, Yensin keeping his calm mannerism, while Razar verbally interrogated him. The knot in the pit of your stomach twisted more, almost causing pain in your gut. Your voice trembling as you whispered, "he has a suspicion that we've been up to something..."

Your voice trailed off into silence, eyes widening in fear. As you watched two men follow Razar's orders, forcing Yensin onto his knees and turning his head to the side, as he rested against the cold anvil. Your breath getting stuck in your throat, as Razar reached for a pair of iron tongs. Reaching into the freshly lit furness, and picking up a piece of coal which had a molten glow.

A small gasp left your mouth, as fear crept up your back. Tony kept a firm grip upon your hand, slightly tugging you back into position whenever he felt you slowly ease forward. Your heart leapt into your throat, as Razar walked over towards Yensin. His cruel tone demanding your friend to open his mouth, as well as commanding the truth from him.

Any other person would of buckled and trembled under this kind of pressure. Tell tale signs of lies and secrets would of leaked out of them, but not Yensin. He remained calm and firm, as though he had nothing to lose...

Before you could leap into Yensin defence, Tony gently pushed you behind him as he stepped forward.

"What do you want? A delivery date?-"

Tony's questions came to an abrupt halt, as guns immediately pointed in his direction. Words of warning were shouted as he sighed in frustration. Razar's questioning glare flickered up to Tony, reading the billionaire's collected expression.

"I need him. Good assistant." was the simple sentence that came from Tony.

Razar's glare flickered from Tony to you, and back again. After what felt like an eternity, the molten coal was dropped onto the anvil, the iron tongs carelessly tossed aside. Yensin closed his eyes, as a shaky breath left his trembling lips.

Razar eyed Tony as he slowly approached him, "you have until tomorrow to assemble my missile."

The moment the metal doors closed, you broke from your statue like posture. Rushing towards Yensin, falling to your knees and flung your arms around him, pulling him close to you, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

"I'm alright. I'm alright." Yensin trembling voice tried to assure you, as a weak smile formed across his face. A smile he always pulled for you whenever you needed comfort.

Yensin slowly raised onto his feet, while helping you back onto yours. It felt strange- almost alien like how the pair simply shook off the dread and immediately got back to work. It reminded you how an ant clonally worked, only stopping their work briefly whenever an inconvenience interrupted them, only to go back to what they were doing before with hive mind like directions and command...

It was the early hours of the sunrise. Sitting at the end of the table, your legs shifting and twitching, your worried eyes watching intensively, as Tony begun to wrap white electrical tape around his hands. Easily using the entire length of the small roll, as he wrapped it evenly around his palms, knuckles and small spaces between his fingers.

The boys had their game faces on, minds clear and focused. Communicating clearly with one another, as Yensin helped Tony get into the thick layers of the protective clothing. The heavy fire-proof jacket of leather, and welding gloves covering his board torso. Tony stepped into the suit of cast iron, and scrap metal sheets. His arc reactor glowed brightly through the hole of the centerpiece.

Although you remained quiet, not daring to break their concentration. But your body shuffled and fidgeted in and out of positions. Nerves entangled your body like the wires of Tony's iron suit. Your breath shaky and uneven, as you continued to fail to hold yourself together.

"Okay? Can you move?"

Tony went through each limb movement, as Yensin tested and adjusted certain pieces, while a large metal frame held Tony and the iron suit in place.

"Okay. Good." Yensin quickly adjusted and tightened a few nuts and bolts of the suit. "Y/N, say it again."

"Forty-one steps straight ahead. Then sixteen steps- that's from the door." Uncertainty and worry rolled off the edges of your mono-toned voice. Your worried eyes staring blankly at the earthly floor, as you continued, "fork right. Thirty-three steps, turn right-"

Unfamiliar voices snapped you out of your panicky daze, as commands started shouting from the other side of the metal door.

"Yensin! Yensin! Stark!"

"Say something. Say something back to them." Tony's voice was the only thing that remained consistently calm.

"Th-They're speaking Hungarian. I-I don't-" your voice trembled through your quivering lips. Your legs bouncing uncontrollably, as you tried to rattle your suddenly blank mind.

"Then speak Hungarian."

Yensin licked his lips, attempting to keep himself calm as he tried to speak back in the foreign language. Arguments from the men and Yensin went back and forth, only stopping when the heavy locks of the metal door begun to shift and creek.

Boom! Crash!

The sudden explosion blew the doors off their hinges, mercilessly sending the two unknown individuals backwards and being crushed by fallen debris and lose rocks.

"How did that work?" Tony asked.

Yensin quickly looked over his shoulder, as your worried expression silently gasped at the sight before you.

"Oh my goodness" Yensin muttered. "It worked alright."

Tony pulled a cocky smile, "that's what I do."

"Okay, okay. Let me finish this.-"

"Initialize the power sequence."

Yensin quickly adjusted his glasses, facing the laptop which was upon the table behind him. Your violent shaking caused the table to wobble, making it hard for Yensin to press the keys. It seemed like out of all the months you three had spent together, now was the only moment where you all felt the same dread.

"Now!"

"Tell me! Tell me!" Yensin called over his shoulder at Tony,

"Function eleven. Tell me when you see a progress bar."

Becoming too frigidity, you got up onto your feet. Your body weight shifting from one foot to another, only stopping whenever you grew bored of staying in one spot and begun pacing.

A progress bar appeared upon the screen, the black void only filled with green coding which made no sense to you whatsoever.

"It should be up right now." Tony hurried voice spoke.

"Yes. Yes-"

"Talk to me Yensin. Tell me when you see it." Tony spoke.

"I have it!-"

"Control 'I.' Then 'Enter.'-"

Yensin followed Tony's instruction as he pressed the keys.

"Good! Come over here and button me up."

Turning away from the laptop, Yensin quickly attended to the small finishing touches of the suit. Tony's eyes flashed up at you, noticing your pace quicken, as thundering footsteps and loud voices echoed from the cave's entrance to the outside. His attention went back to Yensin.

"Every other hex bolt." He kindly directed, "nothing pretty. Just get it done."

"They're coming!" your panicky tone shouted. Hands ran through your hair, "they're coming!."

After attending to the last bolt, Yensin spun around and gazed at the laptop screen. His heart sinking as the process bar snailed to it's halfway point.

"Make sure the checkpoints are clear before you follow me out, okay?" Tony questioned.

"We need more time" Yensin's eyes looked up at you. Your eyes widening as it appeared you knew what he was thinking. Before you could protest, he quickly faced Tony. "Hey... I'm gonna go and buy you some time."

Tony's expression finally changed from calm to worried, his eyes shining with fear. "Stick to the plan!"

Ignoring Tony's shouts, Yensin approached you, placing a gentle hand upon your shoulder. "Everything's going to be alright-"

"Stick to the plan!" you protested.

But Yensin only flashed you a half smile, before running towards the exit. Picking up a gun from the floor, who onced belonged to the fallen individuals. Yensin ran into the rocky tunnel, aimlessly firing the weapon into the air, his yelling voice bouncing off the cave walls.

Turning his attention onto you, Tony saw you standing beside the table. Your gaze still staring in the direction of Yensin.

"Y/N. Y/N, look at me." Despite hearing the slight worry and concern hidden within his tone. Tony tried to continue speaking in his calm and collected voice. He had to call your name two more times, to finally grab hold of your undivided attention.

"I know what you're contemplating about, don't do it. I need you here, my darling. I need you to stick to the plan."

The echoing of running, yelling voices and gunshots stole you attention again. Causing your heart to race a little more within your chest, as you realized the sounds where coming closer. Reality soon snapped you out of your frozen state of mind, as you quickly approached Tony's side. Tightening up a few bolts, before hiding behind him...

Peeping over Tony's shoulder, you held your breath, as you watched three heavy armed men enter the cave. Their fearful and questioning eyes looking at the large metal doors upon the floor, witnessing the damage that Tony's homemade bomb caused. One of them carefully stumbled forward, bravely walking a little further in front of the others. The dimly lit lights within the cave shined a weak glow, nearly the whole area you've been living in being reduced the stuttle darkness.

You quickly ducked back behind Tony's still posture, as the man scanned around his surroundings with a small torch. His eyes finally falling onto the iron suit which enclosed Tony, all you could see was the individual's eyes widen in shock, before Tony harshly wacked him. Causing the unsuspected man to fly backwards, his comrades quickly opened fire.

Flashes from the guns firing aimlessly lit up small portions of the cave. Bullets flying into the rocky walls and ceilings, ricocheting off the dodgy tables and chairs. Causing papers to fly everywhere, and leaving dents into the off cuts of odd bits of scrap metal.

The gunfire only lasted for a few quick moments, before hearing the clicks of an empty barrel. Being untied from the frame which held him, and finally being able to move, Tony approached the men with thundering feet and knocking them to the ground.

"Grab one of their guns! Stay behind me!"

As I grabbed the riffle from the ground, more gunfire ahead of the rocky tunnel within the cave erupted. More bullets ricochet off Tony's iron suit, acting as a perfect human shield as he marched forward. With me blindly aiming the weapon in hand, returning the gunfire at our captures.

Our yelling voices being drowned out by the chaos. One foolishly ran towards Tony, firing his weapon blindly in multiple directions, but only to be swiftly taken out by a swing of Tony's fist. The rest quickly scampered to their feet, running further up the rocky tunnel which lead to our exit. I staid behind Tony, trying to steady my nerves the best I can, as I returned the open fire. Only stopping to pick up another weapon from the ground, once the barrel was empty. Just for me to continue the gory onsort.

Half way through the tunnel, the retreating men begun to push two heavy metal doors close. Trapping one of their comrades with us, but also blocking our path.

Tony slowly stopped, as the individual yelled in a foreign language and attempting to prize the doors open by scratching at the surface. Carefully stepping to the side, aiming the barrel of the gun at the individual's head.

"Save your bullets." Tony calmly spoke. "Plus, we need a little more force to open the door."

Retreating back to my previous position behind Tony, he shoved the man out of the way. Leaving him to cower upon the floor, while Tony pushed the closing of the doors. With the combined weight of the iron suit, you'd think that it slowed down his movements- indeed it did, but only to a certain point. Tony was still able to land pretty heavy and harsh hits upon the door, my wide eyed stare watched speechlessly as the metal of the door slowly buckled and bent under Tony's will.

With a few more heavy hits, the metal doors came flying off their hinges. The men began to run further up the tunnel, continuing their yells and shouts. Aimlessly opening fire at anything in our direction. As I opened fire on our captors, within my peripheral vision. Tony's attempt of backhanding someone caught my attention, but his swing was blindly swung, causing him to get his arm stuck in a small chunk of the cave wall.

I called out to him, over the sound of bullets and voices. But they drowned me out, leaving me no option to open fire at the individual that tried to carefully move towards an unsuspected Tony. The billionaire only caught the last moments, of the man falling to his knees as my bullet pierced his skull.

"Nice shot!-"

"Watch out next time-"

I didn't need to see his cocky smile., beneath that helmet. I could hear it within his voice.

Acknowledging our next move with a simple nod, Tony and I pressed onwards. The hint of the dry desert air filled me with hope, knowing we were so close to coming to the end of this God-forsaken underground prison.

As we turned the corner, the heat of the sun shined into the mouth of the cave. Revealing the sight of Yensin, slouching against bags of sand and dirt. Blood stained his once friendly face, as opened wounds marked his skin.

"Yensin!-"

"Watch out!-" I could barely hear his warning, as pain struggled his vocal cords.

"Y/N!" Tony pulled me backwards, as an miniature rocket came flying towards us. Tony quickly pulled me close against him, shielding me from the blast, as he raised his right arm returning the shot at a pissed off Razar.

Razar's body ragdolled against the cave wall behind him, as I pushed myself away from Tony's embrace. Running towards a fatally wounded Yensin.

"Y.N... Stark..."

My eyes ran over his body, it seemed like blood was coming from everywhere. Staining his trousers and shirt, a mixture of deep and surface wounds littered his hands and throat. I poorly attempted to pull a weak smile, gently placing my weapon to the ground at Yensin's feet. As my trembling hands cupped his face.

"Come on, we gotta go."

Tony's heavy, clangy footsteps thundered over to my side.

"Move for me. Come on. We got a plan, we're gonna stick to it." Tony said, as he lifted up the faceplate of his helmet.

I speechless nodded, as my hands left Yensin's face and reached for his bloody hand. Trying to gently pull him back up onto his feet.

"This was always the plan..." his voice was shallow and quiet.

Hearing the pain within his voice brang tears to the corners of my eyes.

"No" my voice protested. "Like Tony said! We have a plan, come on! Let's go-"

"She's right. You gotta get up and see your family. Come on, Yensin. You can do it."

"M-My family... is dead..." Yensin struggled to breath his words. "I'm going to see them now, Stark...It's ok..."

I tried to fight the tears in my eyes, as Yensin's weak yet gentle gaze. "It's ok..."

But we promised! I screamed in my thoughts. We promised to leave together!

"I can't leave you..." my voice almost cracked as I choked on my words. "You can't expect me to leave you, not here. Not in a place like this. I owe you so much! You can't go Yensin." I cradled his hand against my cheek.

"You owe me nothing, Y/N... knowing you and Stark has made my life meaningful... it's ok my dear, I want this..."

His watery gaze met Tony's once again.

"Thank you for saving me. Thank you for saving us." Tony's gentle voice thanked.

"Don't... Don't waste your life, Stark... You and Y/N, don't waste your lifes."

Tears streamed down my cheek, as the light in Yensin's eyes began to slowly dim. Placing his hands onto his chest, I felt the last shallow breath of lungs. My heart sank as I watched his eyes roll shut, and Yensin's body go limp...

He was with his family now...

"Come on..." Tony's voice gently tugged for my attention. His hand rest upon my shoulder, "we gotta move. There's still quite a long road ahead of us... it's not over yet."

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Dog fight! Dee vs B (part 1)

Oki so me and the wonderful @what-a-whump had our two baby’s B and Dee meet each other at the dog-fights. Thank you so so much for proposing this idea, it was so much fun to write this with you <3

I love our boys together. :3

B and Scott are her baby's and Dee and Sam mine :3

taglist: @ashintheairlikesnow @vickytokio @thefancydoughnut @outofangband

CW: boxboy universe; institutionalized slavery; illegal fighting rings; brief mention of heavy injuries; pet whump

B is dragged up cold metal stairs by multiple handlers. They hold him at a safe distance by catchpoles, thick cords wind around his neck and press into his throat. He bares his teeth at them, bristling with fury as they force him into the kennel blocks

They’d taken his collar and replaced it with a flimsy strip of plastic with a numbered tag attached to it.

“Put it next to the other one.” The order is snapped, a sharp jab of a baton in his spine to keep him moving. He wants his bonded back. He wants Scott. His owner promised he wouldn’t separate them.

Liar, liar, LIAR!

B snarls and lunges at the nearest handler, snapping titanium canines at the air.

“Stupid fucking dog! Get in there!” It takes all of them to shove him into the small kennel run, his feet hitting smooth cold concrete as he stumbles into it. The catch poles are yanked off him. He whirls around to attack and the chain link gate slams in his face.

He roars with frustration, kicking the gate.

“Bring him back!” He growls, pacing back and forth.

Dee pauses mid stretch, watching the newcomer lunge at the gate in a blind fury. That guy will be spent before his fight even begins if he keeps raging like that.

The chain fence’s sharp rattle grates at Dee’s already fraying nerves. Abandoning his warm up, he stands to his full height, all 2 meter 18 of heavy bones and hard muscle.

“First time?” he rumbles, keeping his voice low, almost soft. “Your master will get you after the fight. No need to panic.”

B startles at the voice, jerking his head in its direction. Another guard dog like him. He narrows his eyes, uttering a warning rumble from the back of his throat.

“Who… who are you? I don’t want this… I was being good!”

A wistful sigh escapes Dee’s lips. “It’s not about that here. You fight. You win. Or- “ He pauses, unwilling to think about the consequences of his failure. Of the punishment his bonded would have to endure for his shortcoming. Dee shakes his head, knocking the thought loose. “Just make sure to win. It’s what I’m gonna do.”

B reaches up to push his fingers through the chain link and looks inquiringly at the other guard dog.

“You’ve been here before…” He murmurs. “I… I just want to get my… my bonded back.” He presses his head against the fence. He couldn’t be away from Scott for so long. He needed him close.

“How do I win?”

“Is your bonded gonna watch? Mine is. Master makes him every time. Has him patch me back up, after.” Dee turned to the other man, catching wild frightened eyes with his. “If you're down there, you have to forget that he’s close. Forget all the things you don’t want him to see. Don’t want to be. Just fight. It’s the only thing that counts.”

After a moment's hesitation Dee grabs his shirt hem and pulls it up, revealing a long twisted scar roping up his torso. Countless scars wind their ways through his skin, twisting him into a grotesque caricature of the man he once was. He still feels shy about every single one of them. Even after all this time, they’ve never stopped aching. “Got pushed against a broken fence my first time. Down there is no place for hesitation. Or mercy.”

B blinks, horrified at the sight. He had defended his master, he had been loyal to him and he had protected Scott, just like he wanted. So why had he put him here?

He didn’t want Scott to see him like this.

“I don’t know…” He murmurs, restless panicked energy burning through him. He pushes off the fence and starts to pace up and down again.

“Gotta fight… and win… Then I can see Scott again…” He looks up at the other guard dog.

“You… said you have a bonded too?”

“Yeah.” Dee’s voice grows soft, warmth tinging his vowels and shining from behind his mismatched eyes. A spider spins its delicate web between the fence links and Dee's eyes linger without truly seeing her. Not really. Not when all he can think about is his bonded. His sparkling green eyes, only ever truly tender when looking at him, wild blond locks shining under the warm sun, the dimples appearing on soft round cheeks whenever he smiles. It was Dee’s sole purpose to protect that smile. “His name’s Sam.”

Dee’s eyes flit back to B. “What’s your bonded’s name?”

B watches the faraway look in the other guard dog’s eyes. He could almost smile, knowing that feeling. He thought the world of Scott too.

“He’s… well the master calls him Pet… But… But his name is Scott.” B’s voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s his true name, I keep it safe for him.”

Breath halting Dee steps closer to the fence, lifting his hand to touch it but thinking better of it at the last moment, he had seen other guard dogs maim one another before the official fights had even begun. His voice drops into a whisper: “What do you mean? Like, his name from... from before?”

The thought is dizzying and Dee takes another step forward. Drawn in by the irresistible pull of the longing for his own name, his past, his truth. Dee’s whole attention zeroed in on B. “He can remember? How?”

B pauses for a moment, wondering whether he had said too much. He should be more careful… Guard Scott’s name like the treasure it was.

“We… he knows my name too. We remembered our names together during training… We know…” He leans closer to the fence, eying the other one. He had never met another guard dog like him before.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

A gentle smile splits Dee’s lips. He shakes his head. “I won’t. You have my word.”

The smile widens into a conspiratory grin. “Nothing compared to remembering, but my bonded gave me a name. Said I needed a proper one. Other than dog.”

He grimaces as the memories of training flood in. Cold white cells and never ending beatings. Shaking that thought off too, he sticks his hand out in imitation of a greeting while keeping the distance of safety between them. “I’m Dean. Or Dee, for short. And you?”

“Dean.” B repeats, his lips twitching into a smile and warmth rising up through his chest. In the low light of the kennels, he watches Dee extend a hand. He imitates them, holding a hand out too but noting the distance between them.

“I like your name… My owner calls me B… I can’t say my real name or my head will hurt.” He says, wincing at the thought of it. “They found us out during training… tried to make us forget. We only forgot our names, not the other’s.”

Dee winces in sympathy but his eye lights up with pride at B’s praise. Sam had picked a wonderful name, he already knows that but hearing it from somebody else sends a warm flutter through his chest. He wonders if Scott was just as precious to B as Sam was to him.

“Like holding the heart of the other.” Dee murmurs. “Take good care of that.”

The crunch of heavy footsteps over concrete cuts B off just as he opens his mouth to reply. Both guard dogs whirl around, eyes fixed on the handlers entering the kennel room. Dee’s eyes snap to the empty catchpoles in their hands. They didn’t come to bring another guard dog in, but to take one of them away.

“230.” One handler barks. “Time to get you ready. Now let’s do this nice and easy, hands behind your back and head down.”

B immediately falls into a defensive posture, bristling and growling at the sight of those damn catchpoles.

The other handler snorts, drawing their baton to slam against B’s kennel. The guard dog lunges forward, slamming against the gate.

“Hey! No baiting the dogs, Marcus!”

“Whatever.”

Dee moves into position without complaint. It was easier to just obey, get this over with and save his energy for the upcoming fight.

Hinges screeching softly, his kennel opens. The handlers storm in and the catchpole's snare draws tight around his neck a second later.

Glancing down at B, Dee wheezes out: “Good luck.”

B utters a low whine, clutching the chain link and shaking it furiously. But it’s useless, they’ve left him alone.

He resumes his restless pacing, up and down the fence line. 5 tiles up, 5 tiles down. Just as he used to during his training. In the cold white room where all he had was Scott.

Voices travel up from the stairwell and B immediately turns to face them, fists raised and posed with the weight through the balls of his feet.

The handlers size him up.

“Get on your knees, hands behind your back like a good dog.”

B doesn’t move, the sound of his snarls reverberating around the walls. He holds his fists up higher. He’s not going without a fight.

“The hard way, then.”

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Crimson Shadows: Prologue

Jercy Vampire AU: Prologue

Masterlist for other parts, bad headcanons, and an abundance of crackships.

Information guide to this fic

Ahhh it’s finally here. Today I've been alive 21 years and one of my greatest accomplishments was building this community who read all my terrible headcanons, and weird fanfics and the crack-ships I insist on writing for. Thank you for being here and supporting me. This blog would literally be nothing without you. And I hope you enjoy this fic. I have a feeling it’s going to be quite the journey!

The evening air is ripe with the poison of the city. Vendors pack up their carts of hotdogs and sweet packets and the flying pages of magazines, more than ready to go home after another long, tiresome, blistering hot day. People shuffle along, scuffing the pavement in that way that says they’re already sick and tired of the week and it’s only Aquila, the first day. The smell of unclean air- tobacco and candyfloss, a vape of course- drifts between people’s fisted fingers like a vile wind made just to kill you. The sun has passed the tallest building in Masina, and sinks steadily towards the Zafir river. A small almost unnoticeable breeze hurries over the shorter concrete slabs of home and office, trying as hard as it might to land somewhere that loves it; the trees, or the grass, it’ll even settle for a window flower pot. But no luck, for it is slapped again and again with hard, cold, grey slabs before dying against them in a soft sigh.

A person steps out of the backdoor of a restaurant, tightening a stained apron and scowling as they throw a box in the dumpster across the alley. They feel the lost breeze like a caress on their cheek, but they don’t do anything about it, uncaring of wind, and water, and flowers, and life. Or at least that is the fate of humans, to not care for anything but themselves, and this one does not seem any different. There are much more pressing matters at hand. It is a delight, sinful delicious delight, then when a shadow moves past that reeking, green dump and slips in behind a scowling person and swinging door.

The kitchen they enter is hot. So hot it feels like the inside of an oven. And there is noise coming from everything. Dirty cutlery being shoved into a large plastic bin for washing. Sizzling pans at every stove. The smooth cut of vegetables on the metal table. The hiss of gas as it opens and a flame sputters to life. The bang of the pot as it hits the stove. The splash of plates as they fall into soapy water. And the shouting is a surround sound speaker, directly into your eardrums. ‘To your left.’ ‘The bechamel.’ ‘Behind you.’ ‘Watch the plate.’ ‘Onions chopped.’ ‘Make way for the soup.’ Someone check this! The large silver doors on the far end slam open and a flustered waiter stumbles in. “I need the gnocchi at table nine or I need hard drugs.” They say, voice loud, rushed, but not annoyed.

Someone laughs, and the sound disappears under splattering oil. “I have coke in the car but you have to wait till after my shift.”

The waiter, the cooks, the cleaners, huff a laugh and for one brief moment it is the loudest sound in the kitchen and then an over-boiling pot makes the flames burst and everyone is back to that familiar chaos. Someone hands the waiter a gleaming white bowl with steaming, tomatoey gnocchi pooled perfectly in it; a small leaf of basil decorates the top like a ridiculous green hat. The waiter gives a relieved smile and rushes out with breathless concern. Must get it to table nine, now!

A shadow moves away from the huge refrigerator and slips into the pantry. A chef, decked in a black buttoned apron and flushed red cheeks lunges into the pantry, already reaching for a new packet of something. It’s too far, they have to go further in, step on the sliding ladder. They climb up a rung, two, and reach, reach, reach, Their hand closes around a crinkling bag of long-grain rice and they smile in satisfaction. With misplaced efficiency they hop down from the ladder, and land on a bag of potatoes, falling before they can help it. Someone catches them.

The first thing they see is green eyes, as bright and unnerving as shining emeralds at the bottom of a cursed sea. And then a face, beautiful, so unbelievably, unnaturally beautiful with sharp angles and full lips and rich copper brown skin. And then finally a wide, bright smile, full of gleaming teeth and sharp fangs.

“What is your name darling?” The lush, pink mouth moves, giving them flashes of those pretty teeth. And that voice is deep, and rolling, and promises seduction of the richest kind.

“Agreya,” They mutter, blinking, shocked, hypnotised.

“Thank you for this meal.” He smiles, and the chef knows they'll follow those sparkling green eyes to the middle of the desert.

He leans down, kisses their neck. There’s a sharp sting like being splashed with hot oil, or discovering a tiny cut when you squeeze a lemon. And then there is nothing. Inky blackness and swirls of red and heat and desire, but there is no feeling.

He lifts his head up, running his tongue over red-stained teeth. “You should eat more protein.” His mouth lifts at the corner as his face hides a laugh.

He kisses their forehead ever so softly, and they fall apart at the seams. “Goodbye Agreya.”

There are only shadows and food and looming ladders. Agreya steps over the bag of potatoes, rice still clutched in their hand, and staggers into the ever bustling kitchen.

“There you are!” Someone exclaims, grabbing the packet from their hand and racing to another station.

“Agreya, what the hell is on your neck, it looks like you stabbed yourself with a fork. Jesus, get yourself cleaned up and help with the lentil soup. We’ve got a full house tonight.”

Agreya blinks, rubs their eyes, wipes the crimson stain on their neck and just like that the world comes back into focus. They are shocked out of the daze, brought on by… by… by…

“Agreya you good?”

“Yea,” They smile, and start washing lentils.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags (if you want to be added to/taken off the tag list all my channels of communication are open):

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[dreampeople]

In The Everything of August - a drabble

words: 1.2k

synopsis: mina and nemy enjoy the final bits of their summer together

read under the cut:

July had come and gone just as swiftly as the afternoon showers it welcomed, and its successor seemed determined to beat it, not only in its quickness but in its insufferable attributes, like some vengeful child that no matter how much they despised the expectations given to them and their giver still made it their life’s goal to exceed them. The heat had indeed been so far insufferable, but that day in particular, as Mina and Nemy rounded the block despite the threats of looming thunder, they weren’t bothered. In all a season that normally left both girls violent, writhing and inconsolable had actually been the dream they’d desperately hoped for year after year, and even as it neared its close the dread that would bring that violence and inconsolability to its peak in their solitude seemed to almost have no power. Skin sticky with sweat and hair dampened and swirled by mini tornadoes, the girls were nearly content, adhered to the low and heavy air and to this very moment.

Mina watched as lightning flew across the sky, mingling with the sun’s white rays and thick clouds made of all assortments of grey, the sun still thrusting through them nonetheless. Another roll of thunder followed, sullied by the rustling of the plastic bag Nemy began digging through as they walked. She pulled out a bar of dark chocolate and broke off a section into her mouth. Mina eyed her for a second before returning her attention back to the storm preparing to rage in spite of the unrelenting daylight.

“I used to hate dark chocolate,” Nemy broke unprompted. Mina laughed a little at her suddenness, still turning to face her again, earnest and listening as always. She realized in her laughter that she had already been holding a slight smile.

In the short time they’d known each other Mina had picked up on what were now countless little things Nemy did, almost all of them endearing to her. She did this a lot—sharing sometimes completely unrelated anecdotes from her past as if she were recalling them in real time. Nemy herself had also noticed that most of these memories would front whenever she was with Mina.

“When I was little. But whenever my mom would get it I would always ask for some anyway.” She popped another section off and in.

“Why?” Mina giggled again. She laughed often with her.

“‘Cause I wanted to be like her, probably,”

“Y’know, all cool and adult and eating cool adult things like dark chocolate. I thought it tasted so bad though. Like it was already expired or something. I remember asking her that too and she’d get mad,”

Mina laughed some more, a little louder, more liberally, bearing teeth, and Nemy’s insides lit up, like a match catching flame on the first strike. They littered the next two blocks with pointless banter. They’d reached the final block and turned the corner, the three o’clock sun falling behind them and shifting their shadows in front of them. Heading the street was a cloud that looked as if it weighed a million pounds, like a floating piece of tourmaline, greeting them with a roar. The already damp pavement glistened under them.

“All, well why did you ask for it?” She dramaticized, bucking her head and scrunching up her nose, hoping for more teeth and getting them. The match had been thrown into a tundra, her own smile now wider than Mina’s, in part because of the memory, but mostly because of her. In fact, it felt more like something within her had already been searing since summer began. Mina’s teeth were surprisingly white, almost shining. Her stare fled to the ground.

“And ‘cause it was supposed to be good for your heart or whatever—or is, still.”

“Of course that’s why” Mina wanted to say, but knowing that with her clumsy mouth her endearment would get lost in translation she let the thought slip. She wanted to ask for a piece too but most of the bar was nearly gone.

Nemy’s heart. A fine, polished, shining metal was the first image to materialize in Mina’s head, or something pearly. Invaluable, like an antique, growing in beauty with each decade it lived through though Nemy had barely known two. She thought of steam, pressure. She could imagine grazing her heart’s surface, it either singeing her fingertips or bursting with the force of a pipe bomb at the slight touch. This confused Mina even with it being her own notion. It was also one she thought of often. The more she’d come to know Nemy the more she’d become enamored by her shine and her beauty, and the more suspicious she became of her. She would disregard almost subconsciously the loaded and long-off gaze Nemy would sometimes have, just as long as she was looking at her. She too often would trace the smooth, peachy lining of her lips with her eyes, and notice their slight purse, as if she were trying to keep something from coming up. Irradiance filled the close distances between them even now as they walked, it at times soft and comforting, and at others daunting. Mina could feel it—whatever it was that was inside Nemy, and even with the threat of incineration she wanted to get closer, get further in, just to see if she could.

More clouds scurried across the sun’s path, providing brief moments of cool each time they passed and more thunder gently followed.

“Oh yeah,” Nemy started, politely sucking the melted remnants of her chocolate bar off her index finger.

“Were you gonna take any classes this semester? I registered the other day,”

Mina’s mind was full of peaches, her response a little delayed.

“Um… I don’t know,” she stammered. This was the second time Nemy had asked.

“Why not?” Mina buckled, not expecting her directness. Another maybe clearly wouldn’t be enough this time.

“Well, I mean, I just don’t wanna be doing all that alone,” Now completely folded, Mina finally gave her an answer, not only an answer but the truth. The sky above them began to break apart and pitter down bits of gold; a sunshower.

“I know it’s just community college, but still. And I know Ravi isn’t gonna wanna help me,”

Nemy came to a stop. Whatever Mina was explaining now was nothing but noise, hushed by the rain’s increasing patter and her heart pounding in her chest. Mina’s sincerity, though nothing rare by any means, for some reason filled Nemy to the brim. Whatever Mina was explaining now was swallowed by Nemy as she rushed her lips against hers in a flurry. By the time Mina recognized what had happened the rain’s pitter had turned into a pour. She reveled in dark chocolate’s bittersweetness after they broke.

“That’s not really an excuse,”

With the sun on their backs, like something of a blessing, both Mina and Nemy felt emboldened. In this moment, in the face of downpour and its thuds overhead, amidst the air’s weighty pushes and pulls, and under the heat’s panging, they both knew no fear. With a clash the sky poured some more, the girls screaming hand in hand, braving the final stretch home directly into the brunt of the storm.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Please Don‘t See Me - Chapter 7

Ford was early to rise, intent on packing for a day of research in the forest. His journal and writing implements went into his backpack along with some mushrooms, in case he had to bribe any gnomes. Sample bags – for taking samples, obviously. Trail mix for Ford and jerky for Rebus. A pocket knife for cutting through any unwanted vegetation. A small case of tools in case any of his equipment needed recalibrating. The equipment itself; most notably, the old metal detector he had converted into a handheld mutation-scanner.

Well, technically it detected a currently-unknown element he’d found traces of in a mutated squirrel’s body, that he suspected was the cause of the mutation. Close enough.

Ford fiddled with the makeshift scanner, checking that it was in working order, before he aimed it at the freezer. After a brief hesitation the machine chirped.

“Yes!” Ford grinned excitedly. And then hesitated. “…perhaps there is a better place to keep specimens.”

Hmm.

Rebus shot him a look across the kitchen that seemed to say, ‘why yes, maybe you shouldn’t be keeping a mutated squirrel corpse in the same freezer you store food in’. Ford huffed.

“Well, for the moment it’s the only place I have where it can be properly preserved. Now come here, I want to test something.”

Rebus trotted forward and Ford lifted his scanner towards the wolf. The scanner remained unresponsive.

“…that’s odd.” Ford had been sure that the wolf’s eccentricities had been the result of the same mutation. If it wasn’t that…

It beeped. Ford studied his scanner curiously.

“The element’s presence is weaker in you than in the squirrel, but that could be due to the level of exposure, or perhaps the amount of time since the exposure. In any case, my hypothesis was correct! You must have come into contact with the source material somehow…” Rebus cocked his head inquisitively. “How should I know? That’s what today’s expedition is for. If it’s not the crystals I may try to retrace your steps before you came here.”

At the last moment Ford pulled on a thick coat to hide from the winter chill. It wasn’t yet snowing but the ground gleamed with frost. He shrugged on his backpack and, armed with his journal in hand, started the trek into the woods.

Rebus padded alongside him – Rebus went everywhere with him. Ford could hardly remember not having the massive, shaggy hound around. Who did he used to talk to while he worked? Himself?

…when he was younger, he used to talk to Stanley.

His brother rarely understood the content but he always listened intently while Ford rambled on about parabolas or string theory or whatever he was studying. Stanley had always seemed to know exactly what Ford needed. He gave his undivided attention even to subjects he found boring, just because Ford loved them. Their parents often thought Ford was annoying but Stan listened and it had been one of Ford’s favourite things to rush to him with whatever exciting new fact he’d learned so they could be excited together. When Ford had gotten self-conscious about stimming in public Stan would blow a raspberry, flap his hands and jump around until Ford couldn’t help but join in too, and he was having so much fun that didn’t much care anymore what others thought.

A bump against Ford’s side brought him back to the present and he stumbled, catching himself on the tree trunk Rebus had just stopped him from walking into face-first.

Ford gave his head a quick shake to clear it, irritated with himself. Why was he thinking about Stanley? He was in the process of making a scientific discovery! There were more important things to think about.

…if this truly was a previously-undiscovered element, would Ford get to name it?

The deeper they walked into the forest the more uneasy Ford’s travelling partner seemed to get. Rebus’s thick fur prickled and he pressed close to Ford’s side, casting wary glances at the forest around them. The anxiousness was infectious. Ford gripped his sensor tightly and rested one hand on the wolf’s back, taking comfort in the contact. Ford didn’t notice anything amiss, but canine senses were notoriously sharper than humans’. Perhaps the crystal formations grew in the territory of another predator; or, perhaps, the griffin flock from earlier had passed through this area. Whatever the reason Rebus remained on-edge through the majority of the hike.

Ford’s apprehension, however, was forgotten the moment the crystals came into view. He picked up his pace and hurried into their midst, chatting to Rebus as he did.

“Now, last time I was here I planned to measure the crystals’ growth, and I made a mark – ah, here! Hmm. They haven’t grown since I last checked, which was… four months ago. My, time does fly. I suppose I can disregard the theory that they have an accelerated growth rate. When we return to the house I must remember to investigate natural crystal formation. There’s still the possibility that their growth rate is slower than the norm!”

Rebus let out a curious-sounding rumble, wariness seemingly sidelined for the moment. It wasn’t a question, but Ford elaborated anyway.

“Ah, you see, investigating the conditions of their formation will allow me to deduce what other places they may exist in.” Ford glanced up at the sky, reassuring himself that the mildly overcast weather had not cleared up since he began this expedition. Fluctuating levels of sunlight would increase the chance of either Ford or Rebus getting caught in a stray size-altering beam.

Ford lifted his sensor and ran it carefully over the nearest crystal, which was a lovely blush colour. There was no reaction so he moved onto the next.

“Now, hopefully my scanner here will pick up traces of that mystery element. Considering it has been present in every creature I’ve known to be affected by the mutation, there is a high chance that it will be present in the source of the mutation.” Ford glanced over his shoulder at Rebus, who seemed torn between watching Ford curiously and glaring at the forest around them. “Hmm, perhaps your presence here might skew the results if you carry traces of it… then again, the element’s presence in you is quite weak, and… aha!”

The last part was a triumphant cry as his sensor beeped. The crystal it had landed on looked very much like its neighbours but for the tiny flecks of some sort of mineral deposit inside its translucent body, peppering the stream of sunlight focused through it with tiny shadows. The grass around this particular crystal grew thicker and more virulent than in the rest of the clearing. Perhaps…

Ford plucked the leaf from a nearby tree and experimentally dropped it into said beam of light. It plopped lightly to the ground and did not grow or shrink as expected. Instead, as he watched, the delicate veins began to swell and bulge.

Ford let out a rush of air. “The light. The minerals in the crystal must be distorting its natural size-altering properties! Don’t you see Rebus, this is most likely the source of the mutated creatures running around Gravity Falls.”

Rebus padded over leaned against Ford’s side, a steady presence. Ford whipped out his journal to start jotting down observations.

“But why only now… the crystal fragments in the grass suggest that one was damaged recently, perhaps a formation that prevented light reaching the deformed crystal. In the wake of its absence the deformed crystal has been exposed to light and thus will affect any creature that walks into its path!” He studied the swollen leaf. “Yes, that would explain the disproportionate physique of affected creatures; and I wonder if it influences their disposition as well, or if the ones I’ve come across were already predisposed to violence. Perhaps the latter, given that you seem to have been affected both physically and mentally and yet are non-aggressive towards humans.”

Rebus let out an offended huff.

“Don’t give me that look. The fact that you seem to have some understanding of what I’m saying to you at all suggests heightened intelligence that I suspect came from this very source.” Ford nodded to himself. “Yes, yes… I’ll definitely have to run some experiments on this. Perhaps I can isolate and identify the mystery mineral. It will be a good excuse to test my new Mass Spectrometer!”

Ford (very carefully) scraped off several samples of the crystal. Drilling into it to extract a fleck of mystery mineral took quite some time. He frowned to himself as he guided a pair of tweezers into the narrow hole, trying to extract one while causing minimal damage to the crystal. Fiddly work indeed. He was glad he’d packed a small hand drill and a facial mask, to avoid breathing in any of the dust.

Rebus let out a distressed whine from behind him.

“Yes, yes, I know. We’ll leave in a second, I just need to collect this sample.” Ford carefully lifted the glinting fleck and dropped it into a plastic bag, quickly folding it up and securing it into his pack to avoid any light shining onto it. He had enough oddities already, thank you very much. He wasn’t looking to be mutated on top of that.

Ford packed up his equipment and shrugged on his pack with a wide grin. Rebus shook himself and padded over to join him as Ford began the walk back. Ford’s mind raced as he walked. With these samples he should be able to run tests and deduce the exact nature of its effect on organic tissue. Hopefully he would be able to reverse-engineer its effects to cure affected creatures. Perhaps he should pull a tarp over the deformed crystal to prevent it from mutating anything else?

Ford was still deep in thought when they broke the thick tree cover and headed through a more sparse area of vegetation. Rebus growling was his first clue that they weren’t alone. His second clue was something growling back.

Ford froze as a low, aggressive huffing filled the air. He turned slowly, shoulders hunched, to catch a glimpse of a big body across the clearing. Big, covered in patchy, shaggy brown fur, disproportionate as it gathered up its huge mass to stomp and woof angrily at the growling wolf. The Rebus of bears, as it was. The hairs on the back of Ford’s neck prickled.

…ah. So that was the reason for Rebus’s wariness.

Ford took a slow step backwards and the bear stomped and whuffed, peeling back its lips to display yellowish teeth. Rebus’s rumbling growl got a little louder. Ford tried to think. Why would a wild bear attack them? Maybe there were cubs nearby, or simply they’d wandered too close into its territory and it felt threatened. Their best bet was to back away slowly, appear small as they edged out of its territory-

Rebus sprang forward.

“No!” Ford yelped but the wolf was already charging for the creature’s throat. The bear hunched its shoulders to protect its vulnerable neck and its teeth snapped shut just shy of Rebus’s leg. The wolf yelped and the bear swung one massive paw and sent him skidding.

Ford yelled, which, in hindsight, may have been a mistake, because the now-enraged bear charged towards him.

[toomuchponytail]

If you could do a 3rd part to #42, that would be amazing. Thank you!!!!

Oh absolutely! I like where this is going, so if you’d like a part four I’d be very open to continuing, (I might anyways, I’m selfish like that). 

I’m sorry for being an idiot! (And for, as always, taking a separate lifetime to actually deliver) 

I hope you like this! 

Even in the mad dash to get back to his base the antagonist took a moment to appreciate how much of an advantage they had in this moment. Sidekick had insisted that the antagonist drive--since they knew where their base was--and was now sitting in the back trying to keep hero conscious. 

The antagonist wasn’t really going to do anything, not now, even they had some semblance of standards--it’s what set them apart from one of the common criminals and/or thugs that ran rampant in the streets. 

That being said they did allow themselves a brief half-second of amusement at the situation, they had both of the people who stood in the way of their plans in the backseat pretty much defenseless. 

They couldn’t wait to brag about this to the other Villains in the city, after they found out what hero was dosed with and get them stable of course, they were enemies after all, not animals. 

“Are we almost there?! Sidekick shouted from the backseat, ripping the antagonist from their self-absorbed thoughts and setting them back on track. 

“I can’t get any sort of response from them at all!” 

The antagonist met sidekick’s wide terrified eyes in the rear view mirror, they tried to make their voice as calming as possible, “Are they still breathing?” 

There was a pause, the antagonist focused on the road, their eyes kept darting to the rear view mirror. 

“Yes, they’re breathing, but it’s really fast and shallow.” 

The antagonist swallowed, their throat was suddenly bone dry, “We’re here,” they said, ignoring sidekick’s question altogether, making a sharp turn around one of the supports for the bridge. 

For a moment sidekick thought they were going to smash into the wall, the old crumbly brick seemed to rush up to meet them, they yelped and jumped to cover hero’s body to try and minimize the damage from the crash. 

But there was no crash, and they passed through the wall like it was a crepe paper banner. 

The antagonist had the nerve to smirk at them in the mirror. 

Sidekick would have said something clever or even downright rude if they weren’t so worried about hero. 

All the normal questions and answers would have to wait, sidekick was ready to suspend their disbelief if the antagonist could help their friend. 

They looked down at them again, dreadfully pale, their eyes wide and dilated, their hair slicked down to their scalp with sweat. 

But the Antagonist was throwing open the door to the van, lifting hero and nodding to sidekick to follow them. 

Sidekick didn’t even think to try and gather Intel on the antagonist's lair as they rushed down tiled halls, passing rooms that glowed with electricity, empty boardrooms, and some rooms that must have been massive, their dark doorways stretching like open mouths. 

The antagonist didn’t stop, or even let up their frantic pace until they reached a door marked “lab” they motioned for sidekick to open it. 

Inside was pretty much what sidekick would have expected from a room marked lab, beakers and test tubes, a long metal table covered in documents and maps.

“Take them a moment,” the antagonist passed hero’s unresponsive form to sidekick, they swept everything off of the table in a few frantic gestures, they turned back to sidekick. 

“Lay them down,” they commanded distractedly, already beginning to rummage through a small refrigerator built under the table.

The antagonist's eyes were  shining, and for a moment sidekick felt a little bit afraid, a little bit like maybe they’d been a fool to trust a literal enemy and come with them to their own den. 

It had always been easy to dismiss this antagonist, they’d always been so flippant, seemingly more interested in witty dialog and complaining that the hero’s antics were boring than actually trying to create an empire, it now seemed to sidekick that this was more of a choice than a character flaw. 

“Give me that bag over there, the one marked charcoal,” the antagonist commanded, pointing to small shelf across the room full of silver canisters and small bags, they didn’t even bother looking at sidekick, they were busy drawing  blood from the hero’s arm into three small plastic vials. 

While sidekick was rummaging around in the shelves looking for the activated charcoal, the hero’s eyes suddenly snapped to meet the antagonists still leaning over them, filling the last of the vials, they took a deep shuddering breath and screamed, thrashing suddenly on the table. 

Sidekick was at their side in an instant, “It’s okay! Hero it’s me! You’re okay!” They tried to reassure desperately. 

Hero didn’t seem to hear them, they drew away from sidekick’s hands, flinching, the antagonist had to hold them to keep them from falling off of the table. 

Hero was sobbing now, reduced to animal fear shining like madness in their wide eyes, they clawed at the antagonist’s hands, shaking and trying to free themselves. 

“I’m sorry!” Hero sobbed brokenly, thrashing in the antagonist's and sidekick’s grip,  “leave me alone! I tried! I’m sorry I failed! Fuck! Get away from me!” 

Sidekick was still trying to talk to them, but the antagonist could see that hero was beyond talking, they didn’t want to give them anything else, they weren’t sure what they’d been given in the first place, and didn’t want to risk a potentially deadly reaction, but they did have something, a mix of their own invention, made to combat poisons, since the antagonist had believed briefly that that was how they were going to die. 

“Hold them down sidekick!” The antagonist hissed, making the decision to risk it, they quickly drew up some of their hopeful antidote into a syringe. 

They were expecting the worst, if hero had gotten this bad this quickly ...but never mind, they had to try something and hope that it worked on hero. 

Sometimes hope is a good sort of medicine, sometimes not, the antagonist didn’t like relying on it either way. 

They grabbed hero’s arm, exposing the crook and the vein they’d been drawing blood from, Hero was thrashing badly on the table, “Hold them!” The antagonist commanded sidekick. 

Sidekick looked shaken, possibly going into shock, but they redoubled their hold, nearly throwing themselves across hero to combat the thrashing. 

The antagonist administered the mixture, stepping out of range, pulling sidekick along with them as soon as the needle left hero’s flushed skin, they watched together in horrified silence as hero sobbed, cowering on the metal table from some imaginary threat. 

Eventually after what felt like hours but may have only been a few minutes, hero began to falter, they stopped their sobbed pleas, their eyes rolling wildly in their head. 

“Please,” they begged softly, “I can’t take it anymore... I just ...I can’t...” they went limp on the table, their head still covered by their arms. 

It took sidekick a moment to find their voice, “Is that...a good sign?” They croaked. 

“I don’t know,” the antagonist replied hollowly, sidekick noticed that their hands were trembling when they brushed some of their hair from their face. 

“What do we do now?” 

“We wait,” The antagonist said grimly, coming closer to falling than sitting at one of the chairs along the wall, “And I hope I suppose,” they added absently, chuckling softly without a touch of humor. 

Sidekick sat next to them, both of them watching hero for some sign of change, waiting being the worst, but sometimes most necessary form of medicine.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

We All Pay for Power

Even at sunset, the yellow fireball in the sky was scorching hot. Not a single waking soul around for miles, save for a dusty old pickup truck roaring down the lonesome road. Its driver and passenger traveled closer and closer towards an even dustier, even older tour bus. The unforgiving desert winds swept over them.

Layers of grit and grains of sand caked the windows of what looked like a steel whale, beached in the Nevada desert. Far away from the road, in a circle of cacti, resting in a place invisible to natural eyes.

But the truck’s driver knew how to find it. The wheels spun and screeched as she veered off the thin strip of cracked asphalt, cutting through the landscape of red sand, sparse vegetation, and rocky hills. The tires found traction and dug into the dirt, carrying the truck closer to the old abandoned bus.

With each inch the truck drove closer to the bus, the sky darkened. Defying nature’s laws. Devouring the sun before it even set in due time. The black void of a nightly sky opened up overhead, and the darkness between the stars loomed ever-darker in between the tiny lights.

Watchful, and hungry.

The driver cut the engine. The pickup truck continued rolling until she hit the brakes and rocks and dust ground underneath the wheels, stalling the machine till it lurched forward and fully stopped.

She was the first out of the vehicle, grabbing a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun and slamming the car door shut behind her—the noise echoing through this pocket of Otherworld, hidden away in the desert. Paying no mind to how the starry sky had appeared before sunset and the sun vanished. This was not Kim’s first time of crossing over into another dimension that looked similar to our own on the surface.

Unlike Javier, who hopped out of the car next, leaving the passenger seat open. He stared up at the sky in disbelief.

“The fuck?” he asked. Getting no answer.

Kim did not reply. She approached the dusty old tour bus with steady steps.

Javi’s gaze wandered, coming to rest on the cacti nearby. Their thorns took the shape of wicked little knives; crooked and jagged and sharp-edged. Their stalks twisted to elongated, thin shapes that did not belong on Earth.

“Hey, Kim, seriously. What the fuck?”

He got no answer from her. She held the shotgun in her hand and slowed down before she arrived by the tour bus’ open door. Something echoed through space and time, as if it had just burst open mere moments ago. But now, the door leading inside the bus swayed gently in the wind. The metal of its hinges creaked eerily.

A dark presence waited inside. Palpable. Watching. Born from the void between the stars, coalescing in the bowels of this steel giant, taking familiar shapes. Silver eyes that peered outwards, that Kim could not yet see, but eyes that saw her clearly before she entered. Piercing through matter, through the veil between worlds.

Having spotted something that vaguely resembled a vulture, Javi backed away from the truck and towards the bus, following Kim without looking where he went. The winged creature on the rocks glared at him and he broke out into a cold sweat as their eyes met and the thing’s stare locked onto him.

It crept closer, like a four-legged predator, crawling over the bend of the rock, stopping on its perch and flapping its leathery wings twice. It didn’t look too much like a vulture anymore, owed to many sharp teeth in its beak and the eight eyes on its unfathomably hairy face.

Kim raised her weapon and entered the bus, oblivious to Javi’s panicked breathing as he stumbled backwards and caught up to her. He had his hunting knife and revolver out, ready for the winged thing to pounce, but it just waited. And watched.

Like the entity inside.

They entered the bus, back to back.

Plastic clicked, and Kim swept her flashlight’s cone of illumination across the darkened interior of the abandoned bus. The leather on the seats had been chewed up by time and tiny teeth. Piles of trash littered the place all over, making it look like a hurricane had hit someone’s belongings and scattered them about.

Someone had pinned vast amounts of newspaper clippings to one wall. Everything from serious reporting to lousy tabloids had found its way here. Reports of two missing men, Brent Carver and Rick Sutton, members of the indie rock band The Lost Number. The only remaining person in the group was Kevin, whose mugshot adorned one of the cut-out articles.

Kim remembered the story from her research: how two of the three band members vanished mysteriously out here in the desert, how no bodies were ever found, and how the police eventually released Kevin into the wild where he started a new life.

The punchline of the articles continued on from there, following Kevin’s ensuing career trajectory. The flamboyant, cross-dressing bassist player of a dead-end rock band had transformed into a successful stage magician on the Strip with a cult following. A snippet from a Rolling Stone interview book-ended the assortment of notes.

In red color, someone had spray-painted over the tail end of this creepy collage:

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Javi gasped when something cracked and he spun around. The plastic of a CD case broke underneath his boot; an autographed copy of the EP, Sexy Vampire in the Basement by The Lost Number. He stepped away from it, stumbling over empty cans of beans and bacon and other assorted canned food, kicking loose a brief cacophony of clattering and clanking.

Kim glared at Javi, silently imploring him to stop being so jumpy.

The wind outside picked up, resembling a coyote’s howl. But unlike a natural animal’s howl, it petered out into a ghastly screech. Something flapped its horrid wings to underline the ungodly origins.

From the darkness, deeper inside the bus, silver eyes stared out, watching the two new arrivals.

“Did he live here?” Javi asked. His voice trembled. So did he—his entire body.

Even if he couldn’t see the presence, he felt it.

Kim refused to answer. This was not a place to answer redundant questions.

“How can anybody live like this?”

Kim set her jaw, shining the flashlight down the narrow corridor of the bus into its deepest parts, where the silver eyes awaited them.

Finally, she answered, “Power always has a price. We all pay for it in our own ways. And this—this was his way.”

Someone cleared his throat and Kim pointed her gun in that direction. The darkness swallowed the cone of light, though a set of two eyes reflected it back as they blinked. A man in black sat there, in the bedroom at the end of the bus. Lounging on the beds, legs crossed, hands folded behind his head. Not a care in the world.

Bright white, clean teeth bared, a wide grin plastered across a face of handsome features. Chiseled, sharp jawline, symmetrical. A glint of the devil’s own confidence in his eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asked. Smooth voice—like smoke and velvet rolling over sanded stone.

Kim and Javi approached with careful paces, stepping over the trash heaps strewn about the floor. Both of them had their guns pointed at the stranger.

He budged not one bit, sitting like he belonged here. Garbed in black leather boots, dark jeans, and a crumpled old duster over a fancy black cowboy shirt with red patterns on it, this guy had the air of both a rich man and a vagrant.

“Are you Michael?” Kim asked him.

“No,” he lied. His smile widened. His steel blue eyes turned silver for a split second of the flashlight blinding him. He didn’t even blink this time. Lapped up the attention. Drank in their anxiety, thirsting for their fear.

Sprawled out in front of him was a circle of odd objects. Kim scanned over them with a quick glance, not quite registering what all of them meant or represented.

A circle of rice grains outlined the circle clearly, framed by a square of metal legs broken off a chair. In a pattern inside these shapes rested a tourist trap postcard from the Grand Canyon, a coyote’s skull, a tiny crucifix fastened to an old-timey alarm clock, a pill bottle of Alprazolam filled with black-painted fingernail clippings, a spiked dog collar, a folded piece of paper stuffed with a dark powder spilling out of the seams, and a pile of paperback novel covers glued together. Blue paint chippings covered the various objects.

“Please, let me know how I can help. Are you looking for Kevin?” asked Michael. “So am I. Perhaps we can help each other.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s fuckin’ lyin’,” Javi said. He emphasized that by taking a threatening step towards Michael, but Kim elbowed him to stop him in his tracks.

“Stay outta the circle,” she growled at Javi.

Michael raised his hands, displaying his open empty palms. He brought his hands together and steepled his fingers like some sort of discount villain.

“You might as well put those lil’ peashooters away. Even if you manage to waste me, you gotta deal with Smokey out there,” Michael said, gesturing at the way they had come from.

The cawing shriek pierced the air, followed by more flapping of the wings. Something heavy landed on top of the tour bus, thumping. Sharp claws scraped over the metal, and one of its many beady red eyes peeked in through an old bullet hole in the roof. It kept moving, thumping until it stopped, out of sight. Right above them.

Both Kim and Javi found they had been holding their breath all the while.

“You spill one drop o’ blood in here, then Ol’ Smokey’s gonna be all over this place like flies on shit. And none of us are gonna look pretty at the end of it,” Michael said. The smile slowly faded from his visage, lending credence to the visceral danger lurking just outside.

“We can find your friend if we join forces. Work together,” Michael lied again.

Javi’s lips curled into a sneer but he swallowed any remark, and Kim picked up on the subtle cue. He could sense Michael’s lying. He smelled bullshit five miles against the wind, which is why she had brought him along.

“Alright, whaddya got?” she asked the sorcerer.

Michael smiled again. Like the wolf inviting Little Red Riding Hood inside.

He raised a hand, index finger outstretched, cautioning them away from shooting him and indicating that he was not about to draw a weapon. Digging his other hand into his coat’s pocket, he produced a small silver object.

A flip-top phone from the early 2000s. He held it out for a second, and then gently tossed it across the room to the two. It clattered onto the ratty carpeted floor in front of Kim’s boot. She handed Javi her flashlight and picked up the phone.

Flipped it open. Didn’t question why it still had juice, because nothing needed to make sense in this pocket space adjacent to Earth. No network, all sorts of little arcane symbols blinking on the display. Memory full. The buttons triggered ridiculous little beeps as she thumbed her way through the phone’s storage, browsing through a set of photos.

Kevin was on each of them, striking different poses in front of a mirror, dolled up with make-up and wearing women’s clothes. She always knew him from his stage performances as a magician to pull off the androgynous look quite well, so it did not surprise her that he looked rather pretty as a woman.

Without looking up, continuing to click through them in hopes of finding anything unusual, she asked, “Anything else?”

Michael pointed to something behind the two.

“Yeah. What do you see in there?”

She clapped the phone shut and pocketed it in her jacket then followed the cone of light that Javi shone on the object behind them.

A heavy-looking safe with a digital lock, its display dull and deactivated, its door open. It was empty except for a mirror sitting in it, pushed up against the back wall of the safe’s hollow belly. Kim and Javi only saw themselves inside of it.

Then Kim spotted the silver eyes creeping up behind them, closer and closer. Shining out from a cloud of darkness, billowing out and growing and preparing to engulf them.

She spun around and the deafening shot from her gun made way for a vicious ringing in their ears. Kim frantically pointed the gun around, looking for a target, but she had hit no person, only blown a hole through the back wall of the bus where Michael had been sitting mere seconds before.

“This how you thank me for helpin’?” Michael’s voice spilled out. Everywhere, and nowhere at the same time. Like a voice in the back of their heads, like he was telepathically communicating with them.

“Run,” Kim breathed.

Javi didn’t need to hear it twice. He tripped over some of the junk on the way out but was out of the bus within a matter of heartbeats, kicking up sand as he sprinted towards the pickup truck.

The cloud gathered, swirling and pooling in the corners inside the bus where silver eyes opened in its center, staring at Kim.

“You’re just as messed in the head,” Michael said. His laughter erupted, revolving and booming and growing in volume like the stifling black fog that filled the bus.

Kim coughed and held her breath, stumbling away from the bedroom. The thing outside cawed. Thumped, thundered, as it climbed down the side of the bus. Claws sliced through steel, causing the metal to screech under the pressure of the creature’s tremendous weight.

Michael’s laughter swelled to a crescendo and stopped abruptly.

His voice right in Kim’s ear, “He tried to cheat his way outta the deal. And if you try to help him, you’re just gettin’ in on the cheatin’. And you don’t wanna know how I’m gonna deal with you. You girls don’t know what repercussions you’re lookin’ at.”

She fired another shot, blindly at where his voice had come from. The wind howled, and so did Michael, one of them expressing otherworldly hunger, the other incredible pain. He tripped and slipped on old magazines and fell. Blood had sprayed against the walls inside the bus and he coughed.

“Bitch—”

He groaned and held his side, collapsing onto one of the chewed up couches. In his hand he held a mean-looking knife—something straight out of a horror movie, all jagged and meant for unholy rituals.

“See you in hell,” Kim muttered, scrambling away from him. The junk around her clanked and she tumbled down the short set of stairs leading out of the bus.

The pickup truck’s engine roared and its wheels kicked up sand as it spun around, sliding to a halt next to her. Kim’s eyes went wide but she hoisted herself back up onto her feet. Ripped open the passenger door as it banged against the frame without engaging and Javi hit the gas pedal, making the ragged old engine growl and roar again.

The truck sped off before she even slammed the door shut, and the vehicle kicked up more sand. The distance towards the bus rapidly grew. The winged thing peered after them with its eight red eyes.

With trembling hands, Kim blindly reloaded both barrels of her still-smoking shotgun, craning her neck to observe what the creature would do next.

It defied her expectations—did not leap or fly after the pickup truck. It instead swung around the edge of the bus, moving like molten, living shadows. Folded its wings up behind its back and crawled inside the yawning door, leading into the bus.

Michael’s screams of agony pierced the heavens, louder than the wind, and the old tour bus of The Lost Number shook violently as a struggle for life and death ensued inside there.

The radio in the truck screeched, almost like the creature, followed by garbled static and white noise. Kim hit buttons on it until she silenced the device.

A gust of wind kicked up a huge cloud of sand, sweeping over the truck and causing both driver and passenger to cough until the air cleared.

The sky had changed, the starry night making way for the warm orange tones of the sunset. The natural one. Earth.

Kim and Javi looked into the rear view mirror, seeing no bus, no alien-looking cacti, no winged monstrosity that belonged in another world.

They allowed themselves to breathe, emitting sighs of relief, knowing they could put this experience behind themselves. Maybe get a good night’s sleep some day.

They wouldn’t even talk about it for the next ten miles. Dealing with these sorts of things took it out of you. The unnatural always gave you that extra little oomph to unpack later on.

For the entire ride back to Vegas, they failed to notice the disgusting, football-sized egg stuck inside the back of the pickup truck.

They would only find it after it had hatched.

—Submitted by Wratts

[deviationdivine]

The Stoic Prince (RK900!Prompt Request)

TLDR: To you he’s a smug pain in the ass but you still fantasize about getting dirty with him at the DPD.

Word Count: 1,912

TW: Language, Suggestive Themes, Smut Fantasy

A/N: Follower/Reader Appreciation Drabble | Prompt: “Why the hell am I attracted to snarky stuck up dick faces?” - anon request! Thanks for participating nonnie! This went somewhere else. 1 in the queue done! Onto the next!

"Why do you even bother talking to it?"

Bitter taste of coffee barely touches tongue. Peering up at the question leaves a tiny smirk across lips, which did a hesitant skim of cup rim. Can the DPD honestly get a better brand to chug out of this dispenser?

“Excuse me?”

Purposely hedging away from your co-worker’s sudden interrogation hardly hides the clear tinge of artifice lacing words. Speaking any further may give away this ploy. Of course you know who they mean. He is the only smug jackass that does a heck of a job digging under skin.

Tall, imposing steel scoping a sea of puny humans to gnaw on, using his steadfast jaw, cut from stone if he were made of clay to be fitted by the gods themselves. Plastic, metal – raw material configured, manipulated into eye catching aesthetics.

Fabricated beauty and despite a brusque imperious affectation streaming out of those cool, pert lips. Often times you fantasize how human, warm they might taste. Not just against your mouth but gliding in a hungry appreciation upon every inch of skin made readily available.

To say you had the hots for Nines is an understatement. To say it can go anywhere is another quandary in your grand scheme of things. Natural enigmas be damned he is a walking puzzle waiting to be stripped of his authoritarian programming and cynical attitude.

Unfortunately those gods decided pompous and hypocrisy should be star qualities. Incessantly rolling eyes at your luck, leaning casually into table, coffee machine obscured by your current position, sank an invigorating quiet into your weary body for a brief moment.

Breaks are never long enough. At least there isn’t a sign of top human asshole of the Detroit Police. Rather not have to put a foot up his ass again. However, let’s get back to the inquiry at hand since it hasn’t left the break room.

“Daydreaming about it? Wow, Y/N.”

Sounds like some others you’ve known in the city. Detroit is just a heaping pile of garbage on a good day. Android fever is still in full swing and not how society originally saw it unfolding.  "Don't call him that." You defend him while not in his presence. Better to keep it that way because no way in hell are you admitting how fast you’d drop clothes and get down with the rigid android on the force.  "Just because he's an android, I mean." The female officer rolls eyes at you. "Uh huh. Sure. Next time you’ll tell me Reed’s going out for drinks with Anderson and Connor.”

Considering androids do not drink she’s a long way off course. You snort.

“Better luck with puppy eyed boy,” the officer jabs, smug. “He doesn’t look like he wants to eat people alive. Or maybe that RK900 just wants to eat you out.”

Nearly spitting coffee all over moves you in a quick step forward, grabbing a napkin out of dispenser to brush splotches of brown liquid off shirt. Eat you out?! Yeah, absolutely!

Perfervid antagonism blinds your gaze resting in a target over fellow officer all consuming in personal embarrassment. Truth is not far from luscious fantasies swirling in nightly subconscious. More than a few dreams about tangling body, flesh and humanity with synthetic, plastic and robotics transforms sleep. It is a burning secret. 

A mystery garden planted between the cages absconding the heart ruminating for something of construct, designed in perfection but never mind false images. Never mind unnatural heavenly auras built around a shell of mechanized man. He is everything you can dream about but never will quite openly acknowledge.

One more step and – "Your heart rate is dangerously high for caffeine consumption."

The calculating voice of the RK900 hovers close, sinking in smooth and curt. A statement more so than concern but appropriately edged with his swift, sharp stride into break room.

Fusing a firm hand atop your shoulder seemingly resonates effectively. Analysis is punctual upon your figure as are the sweeping steel he possesses to invoke fear in opponents. He stares down suspects and useless colleagues alike. However there is a bit more skill in you out of most among these humans. He keeps silent, studying a wide appreciation in your eyes.

Pupil dilation is telling to an android who measures subtlety, language in the human form, moving under its own command. Rarely does he witness a shining example of what is referred to as a poker face in most offenders. Upon you it is quite - delicious.

The spike in vitals draws him. Nostrils flare in your personal radius sampling as a bloodhound on a ferocious hunt. Fluctuations respond exquisitely as you are equally confounding in his state of processing.

Do you honestly believe you will affect him in such a wasteful way without retaliation? The form in which he shadows your trembling inhibitions is opposite of what is desired in potential partners. This android does not care in the slightest for decorum. 

He will pull you into his awaiting grasp, splaying atop his smooth marbled chest, wanton in prurience, undone from the molecules that form soft, fragile flesh. Tasting your essence will act as more than data on a long, skillful tongue. It will bury into the nerves breaking down your barriers in a flood of rapture. 

All it takes is a deliberate push. Buttons unfastening with each poke he prods, bleeding into your skin and he does so intentionally to gain reaction. Steeping within your system liquefies him to the plasma running through veins. 

Just as thirium runs a gamut of power to biocomponents he readily will be the life force keeping your mortal existence afloat. So it will be because he wills it out of a viral need you have unwittingly but most adoringly spread into his frame. 

His lips twitch faint. A tiniest curve unseen by naked eye but he settles them to a hard line. 

Your entire body shivers giving away how good he’s gotten you. Damn it. And he’s looking awfully smug about it all. Somehow he manages to keep his stoic façade nestling in his wide, masculine exterior; handsome is a mere flash in the pan for Nines. 

He is beyond definition. You think he knows it too. Why else does he single you out? Making you literally sweat, taking great pleasure in how you behave and pretending nothing is happening.

What a complete and total jackass! Sometimes you swear he fakes this hard ass persona to look the part. Actually, no he’s built this way. Deviancy does nothing for him!

Collecting yourself is instinct and self preservation kicking in. Nobody in their life will get away with this but he melts your strong core down to a puddle. Limpid steel expunges self control. In front of him you strive to be alert so it's not obvious but there was more warmth underneath his imposing touch than you can stand. 

God, he's too good. Flicking eyes down the length of his body drives a surge in your heart, thundering in desperation to current fantasy riding out awake.

Strewn atop table, legs around his waist; ripping open that damn white jacket, digging fingers against defined pecs visibly bursting at the seams through black material, fluffy camouflage to a toned body. Taking you right then and there, moaning his name, sinking fingers into exposed synthetic skin because you want to lay into him as heavily as he lays into you.

Biting of perfectly white teeth, licking languid, sensual from smooth tongue and pounding your body on hard surface, pain thumping against the plane of your back but you beg him for more. 

Ravenous, unfiltered and insatiably poetic while he completely ravages whatever is left of you, nearly collapsing the chosen surface of your hungry carnality. Eye witnesses neither ceasing nor distracting from the obvious orgasm you will ride on high in the clouds of your mind.

Breath catches in a mystifying glaze sparkling up to his hard narrowed brow. A daylight delusion swept hold at the least private location for you to be horny.  For a minute you fear he knows what went on in your head. A predatory slit of Nines’ eyes tracks each minute expression, fidget you relay. He resembles an albino king cobra, flaring a shroud to engulf you in his beguiling shadow.

 Hammering against ribs betrays you to the point of imagining the entire precinct eavesdropping on the laborious thud. A small inhalation expands his chest one he hardly requires for oxygen but absorbs your arousal. Oh, it’s very obvious. You have a bit of a problem between your legs right now. Fuck.

"Peak performance suggests you not consume more than the recommended dose of caffeine, Detective.”

The android’s voice is deeper, darker than usual. Almost testing, watchful of how your body will respond next. Enough so that a smirk graces the mouth you wish to ascend in prayer to the immediate issue you physically suffer. He will cure such issue predominantly efficient. “Coffee will not help your productivity if you misuse it." Misuse it, huh? Oh, you’re sure nothing will be of misuse here. Preferably his tongue; you screw up your face to hide the lust.  

Why the fuck is he looking like that? Does he realize people will start noticing? Honestly, it’s first time you realize it’s just the two of you in the break room. Guess he scared off your former gossip partner.  "Why do you care what I do anyway?” Seething at his game and the fact you’re turned on at work, you slam a finger into his chest. Stabbing him doesn’t move his perfect posture but it sure does make you ache more.  “It's not as if it's worth your time."

Nines’ head cocks to the side marginally amused by this insolence. He finds it cripplingly fascinating on a good day but why voice such trivialities?

“Perhaps if you behave in a professional capacity, Detective Y/L/N?” Leaning in to brush the words beside ear, purposely expelling artificial breath to lick your skin, the android fuses fingers against your hip.

A slow slide kisses beneath the android’s tempting fingertips allowing the hitch of your natural breath fuel his personal stimulus. Aroused by you will not go without discipline. There is only one kind he imagines to have utmost potency and satisfaction.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Nines switches to informalities, dangerously silken. “Do you wish every advanced piece of technology that wanders into the DPD to fuck you? Or is it because I am faster, stronger and more resilient to your needs?”

Gasping is the last vocalization you will give him. Pushing back from you reserves dignity even if you want him to just snag you hard by the hips and throw you down into the evidence room. Quieter, less traffic right now and it’d be a pretty good way to… He just called himself the best and believes it.

Well, it’s true right? No. Fuck his snide self!

You are trying but still…

“Why the hell am I attracted to snarky, stuck up dick faces?!”

Story of your goddamn life apparently and this one is the snarkiest, smuggest, sexy piece of android you’ve had the discomfort and pleasure to meet.

“Get over yourself, Nines!”

Yelling on the way out of the break room only causes looks and you’re sure without turning around he’s still standing there. Tall as hell and making you weak, oh so weak to his stormy sea and he’s already swallowed you up.

Wait until he devours you.  

Tag List: @elydith  @your-taxidermy

[tracies-tales]

Gigahurts

quick heads up: i recommend reading my ficlet Reprogrammed before this one if you haven’t seen it yet, as this one takes place somewhere in the middle just before dan deviates! more author notes at the end :D

Arin shifted in bed, still unused to the weight on the other side of his mattress. He carefully rolled over, afraid any minor movement might jostle the android lying beside him out of stasis. Dan had tried to explain it to him, that stasis was like putting a computer to sleep, but that didn’t help Arin get used to his unusual stillness any faster. Even Dan’s artificial breathing was turned off, leaving the one moving component technically a part that didn’t even move--his LED cycled in a slow yellow ring on his right temple. 

Arin gazed at him, wondering how he got so lucky. Well, maybe luck had less to do with it and it was closer to do with his skills as a class-A pain in the ass when he needed to be. 

It still baffled him how human Dan looked. Under that synthskin, Dan was no more than a plastic chassis, thirium “blue blood,” and a metal skeleton. Well, he was way more complex in ways Arin couldn’t even begin to name, and Arin knew computers better than the average person. Be that as it may, it made Dan no less beautiful. But sitting there, perfectly still under the moonlight filtering in through Arin’s curtain, yellow LED casting a soft glow across the pillows, Arin also couldn’t help but think about how vulnerable the android was.

Dan had said so himself on the first day he’d been brought to Arin’s apartment. People only saw him as a machine for their pleasure. It disgusted him, made his gut twist and writhe and ache to think how anyone could think that of a being that so clearly was capable of learning, of being, of living. He knew Dan could make something of himself other than to live as an object for others’ entertainment. 

In fact, he’d seen to it that they bought Dan new clothes on day two. Not that he didn’t enjoy looking at the blue spandex--he definitely made sure to keep that outfit handy--but he had insisted Dan buy clothes he wanted. Part of him was pretty sure the android had selected clothing based on Arin’s preferences, but it was a start.

The corner of Arin’s lip quirked up into a grin. The last month of living with Dan might have hurt his wallet, but he’d progressed so much in such a short time. Where he used to be stiff and uncertain, now he bounced around the apartment. He’d begin singing at random of his own volition, not because someone instructed him to, and he even selected his own songs, deciding tunes from the 80′s were among his favorites. Arin made it a point to never reprimand him for his song choices; besides, he liked hearing Dan sing no matter the song.

Hell. He loved a lot about Dan. He loved his musical laughter, his bubbly giggles, the way he would set his head on Arin’s shoulder when Arin sat him down to watch a movie and made him promise not to look up the ending with his built-in wireless connection. He loved watching his LED spin yellow as he concentrated on trying to solve games without using his reconstruction programs or otherwise puzzled over something he didn’t quite comprehend. They were quirks that made a model number into a name--a DS6969 unit into Dan. 

Without realizing it, Arin had been slowly shifting his hand over to cover Dan’s; his skin was cool but soft to the touch. The contact made the yellow glow of light switch to an easy blue as Dan came back online. He opened his eyes and turned his head, tilting it as he noticed Arin staring at him. “Arin, it’s two in the morning,” he said gently, rolling to face him while entwining their fingers in the same movement. “You should be asleep.”

Arin chuckled, “Oh yeah? Shouldn’t you be in stasis or something?”

The corners of Dan’s eyes crinkled up as he grinned, “I was in stasis until I was so rudely interrupted.” 

“Oh, my bad, next time I’ll even more delicately hold your hand in the dead of night,” Arin said, throwing his other hand into the air for dramatic flair. “It shall be a symbol of our forbidden yet undying love and affection.” They were no strangers to joking about it by now; Arin had had to explain the concept of jokes and sarcasm to Dan, who had caught on faster than Arin had anticipated, but now the not-so-veiled confessions felt more like salt in a wound that refused to heal.

Dan’s smile softened as he continued gazing back at him. “At least I can be sure yours is real.”

Arin’s air of playfulness left as though it had been contained in a popped balloon. “What do you mean?”

“At the club, there were always people who wanted to be with me. But they didn’t...feel the same as you do,” Dan explained. “I think their love for me felt...empty, as artificial as I am. Yours, though, it just feels...different. Complete.” Dan’s LED flickered yellow. “But I can’t even properly begin to process the difference. I can’t, shouldn’t be able to feel. Shouldn’t I just be focused on what job I need to get done? Isn’t that...what I was made for?” he looked down at their hands.

Arin pursed his lips and squeezed his hand firmly, then said, “I told you, Dan. You’re way more than anybody’s plaything. You’re your own person. You have every capacity to make your own decisions; I’ve seen it. You can feel however you want to feel, and you may be happy when you complete a given task, but it should be a task you want to do. Not a task you were told to do.” He let go of his hand to brush a hand against Dan’s cheek, “You’re more than your programming.”

Dan fell silent, somehow looking like he might actually be on the verge of tears. Arin wasn’t even positive whether androids could cry. When Dan replied, “Arin-” in a choked up tone that couldn’t even be due to a faulty vocal component, he was briefly afraid he’d somehow broken him. It was when his LED turned red that he started to grow seriously concerned.

He sat up and said, “Dan?” with rising panic, afraid he’d somehow stressed him out. Dan squeezed his eyes shut a moment and opened them again, his artificial breathing quickened as though he were breathing heavily. He stared down at his hands as their synthskin momentarily drew back, showing the shining white chassis beneath before they returned to normal, although they were suddenly trembling in a way no android should ever exhibit unless a biocomponent was malfunctioning. 

The wait for a response was agonizing; seeing Dan in a sudden panic had only stressed Arin out, but in the next moment, Dan had lunged forward, pulling Arin into a crushing hug. Practically every android model was as strong as a human as a general rule, but Dan felt far stronger in that moment. Arin choked out, “Hey, okay, lungs, I have lungs-” before Dan finally loosened his hold, tears still making his eyes shine.

“Arin, I think...” he started to say, swallowing even though it wasn’t strictly necessary, “I think I can...feel.”

Arin stared at him blankly, “Feel like how my ribs might have just been cracked?”

“No,” Dan said, his facial expression switching from tearful elation to confusion back to joy to understanding, “feel like...how your love does.”

There was silence between them for a few seconds before Arin said, “Oh,” dumbly. 

Dan’s face broke out into a smile again as he set a hand on Arin’s jaw, his eyes flicking over his features as if committing the moment to memory. He probably was making an actual file for it. “Yeah. It feels...whole.”

Arin leaned his head into his touch, the cool skin still managing to send sparks flying through his body, and said, “That about sums it up, yeah.”

Dan watched him for another moment and asked, “Can...I try something?”

“Do you want to?” Arin asked, always one of his first questions before they did anything.

This time, Dan’s answer wasn’t a variant of ‘I can’t want things,’ and was instead a resolute, “Yes.”

Arin felt his throat go dry as he nodded. He watched Dan lean in, the only part of his brain which was online anymore having the sense to lean as well, eyes fluttering shut as he felt Dan’s lips brush against his. It was brief, but it was ecstasy, and when Dan pulled back, leaving his hand cupping Arin’s face, Arin asked, “How uh, how was it?”

Dan rubbed his thumb along Arin’s cheek, “Best and first true kiss of my life.”

Arin couldn’t help but snort and said, “Best kiss so far.”

Dan giggled, carefully pressing their foreheads together as he responded, “You’re right. So far.”

THESE BE SOME FLUFFY BOIS

thank you all so much for 600 lovelies!! it’s a milestone i didn’t think i’d get to, and as I always say, even though lots of you probably aren’t here for my writing, i’m always open to prompts for all your egobangin needs :3 i hope the sequel to this old ficlet lived up to its predecessor!!

[sebeth]

Crisis On Infinite Earths #5

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 Psycho-Pirate’s master is very upset – he’s destroyed the two prime universes, murdered the Monitor, and he still isn’t able to level up!

The Monitor - via pre-recorded message – reveals the he used his death energies to create a netherverse that absorbed the Earth-1 and Earth-2 universes.  However, the two universes are merging and will cause the other’s destruction.

Alex Luthor (son of Earth-3 Lex Luthor and Lois Lane) reveals the Monitor left him with instructions to save the two universes.  The rapidly aging Alex is now a teenager.

The Flash and Red Tornado are prisoners of the mysterious master.  Psycho-Pirate abuses poor Barry out of sheer boredom.

Lana Lang for WGBS-TV reports on the current insanity of the newly-created planet. In one city, you have dinosaurs, Neanderthals, Viking ships, blimps, horse-drawn carriages, and buildings from the 30th century.  

Sinestro himself has a “What the hell?” look on his face – and he’s seen some stuff!

Alex Luthor and Harbinger have gathered an assembly of heroes and villains.  Big two page spread of the assembly.  We have the Legion of Super-Heroes, the Outsiders, Infinity Inc., the Metal Men, Cave Carson & his team, the Teen Titans, the Sea Devils, the survivors of Easy Company, Dr. Light II, Swamp Thing, All-Star Squadron, Ragman, Riddler, Captain Boomerang, Kamandi, Rag Doll, Star Sapphire, the Persuader, Elongated Man, Steel, Hawkman, Hawkwoman, Captain Comet, B’Wana Beast, Bir Sir, Solomon Grundy, the Mist, Aqualad, Tula, Lori Lemaris, the Blackhawks, Phantom Stranger, the Cheetah, Robotman, Per Degaton, Dr. Polaris, the Creeper, Cinnamon,  Monsieur Mallah, Phobia, the Legion of Substitute Heroes, Batgirl, Batman, Earth-2 Robin, Earth-2 Superman, Earth-2 Huntress, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern (John Stewart), Martian Manhunter, Celsius, Arion, Scalphunter, Green Arrow, Killer Frost, Firestorm, Deathstroke, and Plastic Man.

The main thing I love about George Perez’s artwork – the man is not afraid to draw a large group of characters.   The groups are never standing in straight formation either.  The characters are reacting and interacting.  A few examples:

1)      Easy Company is clearly freaked out by Swamp Thing.

2)      Beast Boy (Changeling) re-uniting with the missing Cyborg.

3)      Aqualad and Tula assisting Lori Lemaris.  Lori can’t stand because she’s a mermaid.

4)      Solomon Grundy is very annoyed.

5)      Couples are standing next to each other: Nightwing/Starfire, Brainiac 5/Supergirl, Lightning Lad/Saturn Girl, Bouncing Boy/Duo Damsel, etc.

6)      Elongated Man, Plastic Man, and the Metal Men are using their stretching abilities to great effect.

Lois Lane – also from WGBS-TV – interviews people on the street:  Tomahawk and Grixx of Ceti Alpha 6.   Poor Tomahawk doesn’t even know he what a television is – only moments ago he was fighting with George Washington’s troops.

Back to the assembled heroes.  Adding to the roll call:  Sargon the Sorcerer, Firehawk (the Western character), Black Orchid, Gizmo, Deadman, Gypsy, Penguin, Brother Blood, Validus, Jemm (Son of Saturn), Amethyst, the Warlord (Travis Morgan), Catwoman, the Atom (Ray Palmer), Jonah Hex, Vibe, Captain Cold, Earth-2 Wonder Woman, Ocean Master, Dolphin, and Black Canary.

We take a quick peek at Rann where Adam Strange battles monsters from the pre-historic era.

Superman steps up with the big hero speech: “Maybe I’m wrong talking for everyone but I will. Send us back. Let the doubters decide. But I promise you this, if we can save the worlds that remain, we will!”

The series has consistently shown Superman as the standard bearer of the DC Universe – the one you turn to when the end of the world is here. It has also demonstrated the struggles Clark has with the role: he has fears and vulnerabilities but has to ignore it and order to be the “shining light” for the other heroes.

A team of Green Lanterns, including Arisia and Katma Tui, arrive on Oa.  They discover the Guardians in stasis but are quickly taken out themselves.  

Lois Lane is attacked by a sabretooth tiger but is quickly saved by Earth-1 and Earth-2 Superman.  

Rip Hunters and his Time Masters are adrift in time.

Alfred and Jason Todd call for aid as Anthro, Embra, and a host of Neanderthals are invading Wayne Manor! Batman responds and he brings back-up. The back-up consists of Earth-2 Robin, Earth-2 Huntress (logical as they know the secret identity and are part of the family, Katana & Halo of the Outsiders (Batman’s team, also in on the identity), Nuklon (he’s trustworthy), Per Degaton, Kung, the Brain and Monsieur Mallah, Poison Ivy, Plastique, and Weather Wizard.  What?! Bruce is obviously not concerned about maintaining his secret identity at this point.

We have a brief panel of Batman putting his arm around Jason Todd’s shoulders. Jason is in civilian attire, not in his costumed identity. Earth-2 Robin (an adult Dick Grayson) is clearly looking at the duo with an unhappy “Who are you” expression. Again, George Perez – master of small details.

Unfortunately, my adorkable Anthro has no dialogue. The world is missing out on what would have been an awesome Alfred-Anthro interaction.

Starfire, Sun Boy, Firebrand, Firestorm, Polar Boy, and Killer Frost head to the Soviet Union to assist Red Star.  Killer Frost has reverted back to her lovable “I will kill you all” self.

Red Star refuses the aid until Starfire reminds him: “It’s our world. Please, we have to work together if we’re to save any of us.”

Red Star concedes: “Your words should be heeded by all. I apologize. You are right. Perhaps if we all survive, the politicians will remember this cooperation and build a better world for us all.”

Good luck with that!

Psycho-Pirate is still picking on my poor sweet Barry.  Meanwhile, the master is transforming the Red Tornado from machine into a primal force.

The Legion, The Justice Society, Zatana, and Sargon are attempting to combat the out of control weather only to discover that it’s being caused by the Red Tornado. Wildcat’s spine is shattered by a lightning bolt – he will never walk again.  We also get a quick two panel glimpse of Yolanda Montez.  Yolanda will become the second Wildcat.

The heroes and villains unite to save the universe.  Alex Luthor informs the group there are five universes that need to be saved.  

The master reveals himself to Psycho-Pirate and Flash:  Call me…the Monitor!”   A very corpse-like Monitor.

We end on Earth-X: “An earth where World War Two had continued for more than forty years.” AKA the home of the Freedom Fighters (Uncle Sam, Phantom Lady, The Ray, the Human Bomb, and Black Condor).  

So…Five Universes to save…

We have:

1)Earth One

2)Earth Two

3) Earth X

4) Earth F – Marvel Family

5) Earth C – Charlton characters – Blue Beetle, Captain Atom, Question, Nightshade

Earth One and Earth Two are DC’s golden and silver age characters. The remaining three earths feature characters from various comic book publishers DC bought out over the years: Charlton, Fawcett, Quality, etc.

[elegantmoonchild]

Can I request a oneshot where V stays over at SP trailer and he has a nightmare and can’t sleep and V calms him down and it’s just really fluffy

Hey there! First off, I am so so so so so sorry it took me this long to complete this prompt. I didn’t make it super fluffy, but I really hope you like what I came up with! Enjoy :)

A crash. A bang. The scream of thunder and the sharp sheen of rain as it poured around the trailer in Sunnyside Park like molten metal that hardened just as it hit the tin roof. All of it, the fearsome sound of the storm outside mixed with the eerie silence of the bedroom, became a contrasting crescendo that knocked Sweet Pea out of his nightmare and back into reality.

He reached out in reaction, feeling himself fall while laying completely still in his queen-size bed, the thin sheet of cotton brushing against his feverish hands like cool liquid, somewhat damp from the sweat still dripping from his temple. Beside him, his knuckle grazed the warmth of another’s bare skin, and in an instant it all came rushing back to him – Veronica had stayed the night and he wasn’t all alone.

The relief crashed over him in a warm wave as he slowed the inhale-exhale pattern of hyperventilation, his fingers returning to the soft, velvet thigh curled just above his left knee. He needed to touch her, needed a totem to keep him grounded, a reminder that he wasn’t back in that dark and gritty alley but instead in the comfort of his home, surrounded by his lover who slept soundlessly beside him.

Her black hair was nestled neat beside her cheek, tucked just under her chin as a few stray strands blew softly back and forth with each breath she released. Her long downy lashes, lighter without the aid of make-up, flickered with the reflex of sleep, though still clinging close to her lids, the skin there appearing baby soft and nearly untouched. She looked so peaceful, curled up beside him with her legs tangled up in his, so strong in the person he knew her to be and yet so fragile in the woman she looked while lost in slumber. He felt his love for her pour into his heart, melting the ice that had formed there from the nightmare, relishing in the feeling of its slow and steady beat.

He longed to reach out and stroke the soft apple of her cheek. He didn’t want to disturb her, knowing the skin of his knuckles was rougher than desired, but the urge to feel her warmth emanating from such a small, concentrated part of her body, won out. He brushed against the velvet there, feeling the thin whiskers of her face emerging from her pores, their feminine fleece caressing his hardened skin like a whisper. Her breath caught, a brisk inhale followed by a slow exhale as her eyes opened slowly and softly, an angelic awakening if he ever saw one.

“Mm, ssswrong, babe?” she mumbled as she fought back a yawn, her lips curling upward into a smile as she met his eyes with her own. “Can’t sleep?”

“Can’t sleep,” he replied tenderly, hoping she couldn’t read the pained, haunted expression that had been painted over his features during his fitful slumber.

He wanted to spare her the fear, spare her the worry that would inevitably come if he told her what he had envisioned, the gruesome sight that had surrounded him as he watched, one by one, as the men he fought with, worked with, broke bread with in their Serpent den fell at the hands of another pack of rabid wolves, the merciless Ghoulies who had come seeking vengeance in the alleyway behind the Whyte Wyrm.

“Is it raining outside?” she asked, her brows furrowed as she attempted to sit up, her palm pressing into the damp sheets as she peered through the dark toward the single bedroom window. As she felt the moist cotton beneath her, her eyes darted south, breezing over the material with her glance before she looked back up at Sweet Pea, the worry he tried to avoid evident in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” She reached out with a concerned hand, brushing her fingertips against the dampened surface of his temples. “Your hair is soaked, Pea. Did you have a nightmare?”

He pulled away from her, the hair above his ears just out of reach of her fingers that itched to stroke and soothe. Always such the tough guy, he could practically hear her think, knowing she would be chiding him if she weren’t so worried.

“It’s nothing, Veronica,” he replied back, doing his best to fake a casual tone, knowing fully well she would see through his bullshit. Like she always does.

“It doesn’t look like nothing, Pea. You’ve soaked through the sheets with your sweat and your skin is ice cold. I’ve never seen you look so clammy. You give yourself away too easily, Sweet Pea. I know you.”

I know you do. The ultimate betrayal of a good relationship.

“It’s just a bad dream, babe. Bad dreams happen and then they go away.” He reached out to stroke her cheek, hoping the sweet endearment and affectionate gesture would throw her scent off the path she was sniffing, searching for any hint of deception.

And, of course, she found some.

“Stop lying to me, Pea,” she sighed exasperatedly, re-adjusting herself on the bed to sit up even further. She pushed at the pillow wedged between where her head had been beside his so she could face him better, the signs of sleep from before erased completely from her features. “I know when you’re bullshitting me. I don’t know why you keep trying.”

He lifted one shoulder in reply, a half-hearted shrug, knowing he’d been caught and not quite knowing what to say. It still unnerved him that she could read him so well, to find anybody in life who could read between the lines he so slyly created on the mask of the badass, no-shit-taking persona that he wore around in public like skin. That had been her appeal, though; the fact that she called him out on his bullshit had been what had set her apart from the other girls in Riverdale.

There really was nobody like Veronica, especially for him.

“So are you going to tell me about the nightmare or am I going to have to force it out of you?”

Sweet Pea tried another angle, one he knew could make Veronica weak, and he tossed her a playful smirk.

“Just how do you suggest doing that, princess?”

In retaliation, pure warlike retaliation, she flicked her perfectly manicured fingers roughly over one of his nipples, watching as it perked up beneath his thin white cotton t-shirt.

“Shit, Veronica,” he chuckled as she bit her bottom lip and smiled.

“Don’t be such a baby,” she replied back teasingly, “and tell me what you were dreaming about. It’s not like you to be so guarded like this, not with me. Tell me what you saw and we can go back to sleep.”

“Or not sleep,” he murmured as he wriggled an eyebrow at her, but she was unfazed and he sighed in defeat. “Fine. But you have to promise me you won’t get all goo-goo about it. It was just a dream and I don’t want you worrying yourself over nothing.”

“No promises,” she replied matter-of-factly.

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes as he settled back onto the bed, crushing his pillow with the thick set of midnight black strands adorning his head. Veronica leaned in a little deeper over him, her watchful eyes searching for the answers but still he could see the patience there. He looked over toward the window, the glow of the midnight moon shining against the cheap white blinds that were partially closed. The reflection of the rain drops and streams echoed against the plastic, falling down, down, down like the bodies of the men he had watched die painfully in his sleep.

“I saw the Serpents go down in a fight with the Ghoulies. Malachi brought in some new clientele and they were stinking up the streets with the dirty coke they were dealing. In the dream, Jughead ordered a surveillance of their stakeout, but someone had ratted on us and we were ambushed behind the Wyrm. Fangs went down first, two shots to the head, and then Blackhawk. Next, Jughead caught a slug in the chest covering for Toni, who got hit in the crossfire trying to crawl away from the alley. FP was nowhere in sight, which was probably for the best. He would have gone total apeshit, totally uncontrollable if he saw Jughead bleed out like that. So much blood, so much damn blood.”

Sweet Pea could hear the change in his voice, feel the thickness grow as he fought to swallow the lump that was rising up in his throat.

“I looked for you, called out for you, because in the dream I knew you were coming to see me, then suddenly I felt this burning sensation in my chest. I looked down and there was a bullet hole, about the size of a quarter, cratering into my skin like someone had stuck a very large thumb into the muscle and pressed really hard. Parts of my shirt had been ripped from the blast and there was so much red staining the already black color of my shirt. Everything looked wet, wet from my blood, and it took all the strength I had left not to collapse completely to the ground. I crumbled to my knees slowly and slumped back, my head sliding down to meet concrete. I looked for you, turned my head to the side, but instead all I could see were Fangs’ eyes staring back at me with this haunting blank stare. I wanted to throw up, wanted to die, but I wanted to see you first, but you never came and I woke up just as I was beginning to close my eyes.”

A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance as the rain continued to spill, a brief flash of lightning illuminating the room as Sweet Pea tried to tether himself to the present. He could feel Veronica peering down at him with that worried look he hated seeing on her face, could feel her pity, and for a moment he felt like a coward.

“None of that happened, Pea. Everybody is okay. And I’m here now.”

He looked over at her, his pained eyes finding solace in the warm brown of her stare, thankful the pity he felt wasn’t actually evident on her face. He smiled, ever so slightly, as he watched her bring a hand to his cheek, the soft texture of her knuckles grazing against his cheek and jawbone, and he leaned into the gesture, warmed by the comforting feeling of her affection and presence.

He could see she wanted to say more, wanted to persuade him everything was okay with peppered kisses and gentle promises to protect him – all things that would have made him feel the shame even greater – but instead she lowered herself down beside him, nestling her head in the crook of his chest and bicep. Her gentle hand rested comfortably on his chest, her arm slung over him in the only protective move that didn’t make him cringe with guilt.

He could see she wanted to say more, wanted to do more, but she knew him better than anybody else.

That embrace, that warm offering of company and solace and casual affection, was just what he needed to lull himself back into slumber. He could feel Veronica slip back into sleep as well, her soft and low breathing the last thing he heard as he drifted off into rest, the peace within him restored by the peace she gave simply being the woman he loved who loved the man he was.

[amemixfan]

Deleted the original request. This is part two to my VN AU. Long post under cut.

”Welcome back,” a chipper voice greets. 

I blink several times until my eyes focus. I am in a hospital room of some sort, but I can’t make sense of what has happened. My head is killing me and everything feels dizzying. 

One of my hands reaches for the back of my neck where a bandage is pressed to my scalp. I prod at it and feel a strong stab of pain that goes all the way up into my brain. I wince and bite my cheek. 

A nurse to one side of the room offers me a friendly smile. She peers down at the placard on the edge of the bed and quickly reads my name. 

“Welcome back, Ms. Gray. You gave us all quite the scare,” she walks up to me and holds her tablet aloft as she reads my stats. 

“What happened?” My voice is groggy and it takes effort to sit up. I feel like I’ve been through a wringer. 

The nurse hums to herself and skims some paragraphs on the tablet. “Your place of employment called an ambulance. It seems you suffered a nasty fall at Optimus building.”

Optimus. I blink in confusion and press a hand to my brow. The name means something, something vital, but thoughts of it begin to flicker before I can get a clear picture in my mind. My head is killing me and my mouth tastes like cotton. 

“I can’t remember,” I murmur to myself. 

The nurse overheard the slight edge of fear to my voice and offers me another polite smile. Her hands move to a vase to one side of the bed and she busies herself with setting it right. The floral scent is strong inside the room and my head feels even more fuzzy with the more I inhale. 

She pulls out a card from a plastic pole in the vase and holds it up to me. “To Valkyrie, from Sunny Starks. Get well soon.” I don’t remember who that is. 

“Your fall was nasty and your memory is recovering. It’s normal to not remember everything,” the nurse soothes. 

A knock on the door makes us both glance. I have no idea who would come visit at this hour, Robin is probably at work, but the nurse beams. She gives me a quick wink. 

“Your boyfriend can help you fill in the blanks,” the nurse whispers. 

Boyfriend? My head pounds again. 

The door swings open and a man walks in. He has dark hair and green eyes and walks with purpose. An Optimus name badge glints against his white sweater and he breezes past the nurse as if she is nothing more than a distraction. My memory fails to place him anywhere, although I do have a prickle of fear when our eyes meet. For some reason, his presence puts me on edge. 

“Valkyrie,” his voice is smooth. He comes to the edge of my bed but doesn’t reach out to me. His hands clasp behind his back and he has no emotion on his face. “I’m glad you are alright. It was a nasty fall you took. How do you feel?”

I blink feeling dizzy. Between the floral scent making my eyes water and the stranger who seems like more than just a stranger, my head is pounding. 

“Who are you?” I grit my teeth in pain as my hands prod at the bandage at the back of my neck. What exactly happened to me?

The nurse winces and offers the man an apologetic smile. She places a motherly hand on his back and bows her head. “Her memory is fragile, son. Don’t take it personally.”

The stranger gives an indifferent nod. While the nurse seems awkward at my amnesia, he doesn’t seem surprised. His hand goes to his chest and he bows his head as if introducing himself. 

“I’m Charles,” he inches closer to me, “Your boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. I have a bizarre flash of something. A fair haired stranger with blue eyes flickers in my mind for half a second before my head pounds again and the floral scent invades my senses once more. 

I can’t remember who Charles is, my mind can’t place him, so I blink up at him. My entire skull feels like someone is taking a mallet to it. I suddenly feel very tired. 

“Boyfriend,” I murmur under my breath. My eyes close and it is a struggle to remain sitting up. 

The nurse’s heels click as she comes to my side. Her hand tilts my chin up and a light flickers on in her hand as she peers at my eyes. So she has superpowers of some sort. Why does that send warning bells through me?

“What exactly happened?” I nudge her touch away gently. She drops her hand without resistance. 

“You fell at Optimus building and had to be treated. You’re in an Optimus hospital,” Charles pulls out a bottle from his coat. The bottle is a clear glass and the contents inside are light blue pills. “You’ll be fine as long as you take your medicine.”

He uncaps the bottle and places a single blue pill on the counter next to me. I stare at it. The particular shade of blue of the pill reminds me of someone’s eyes, but I can’t remember who. 

“Since when does Optimus have doctors?” The words leave my lips before I can think. 

I freeze and the nurse does too. A nervous giggle leaves her lips and she glances at Charles. For the first time, I realize that her uniform is more of a scientist than a nurse. An Optimus name badge glints against her chest and her white lab coat looks frayed at the bottom. 

Alarm bells blare against my skull. An overwhelming feeling that something is very wrong envelops me. I have a brief flash of a metal table and needles full of sedatives before I blink and it’s gone. 

Charles comes up to me and pulls the vase of flowers closer. The scent is overwhelming and I feel like gagging. Whatever flowers they are, they’re not normal. 

“Sunny sent these in for you,” he evades my question and arranges the bouquet closer to me until the scent is so strong my eyes water, “she used her powers to increase their scent. It’s nice, yes?”

He sets the vase down until the tips of the petals sway against my skin. I notice he almost holds his breath as he stands close to them. His fingers take the blue pill next. 

“It’ll be a while before you remember your fall, and it may be forever before you recover your memories fully. Nevertheless, this medicine is Optimus designed to help.”

My fingers close around the capsule. The bottle it came from doesn’t look like a medicine bottle, there’s no prescription label or tag, and my nerves are on edge again. Despite the headache and pain beating against my skull, something in me tells me this is wrong. 

“Optimus doesn’t have doctors,” I repeat. I almost fling the capsule away. Instincts are flaring up against my skin and my body readies for flight or fight. Something is very wrong here. 

The nurse brushes her fingers lightly against the vase again. The flower’s scent nearly make me sneeze as she dusts some pollen from the petals. As soon as the smell comes over me, some of my apprehension washes away. I find it hard to remember what I was so worried about. 

“Optimus has doctors registered under their name. We are loyal,” the nurse firmly states. Her name tag glints in the light almost as if to prove her point. 

Charles takes the pill from me and presses it against my lips. His face is still devoid of emotion, there is no romantic affection anywhere in his eyes, and I wonder briefly if the nurse is right. I remember being close to someone, but I don’t remember being close to him. 

“Just take your medicine,” he murmurs. 

Feeling like I’m making a grave error, I comply. 

As soon as the pill breaks on my tongue, the bitter taste of medicine fills me. Between the floral scent and the strong drug, my headache dissipates. My mind begins to clear from the fog and my previous suspicion washes away. 

Something in me, deep in my core, still hisses of something being wrong, but the medicine from the pill erodes at it until it’s nothing more than a whisper at the back of my head.  

“Do you feel better?” 

The nurse’s bedside demeanor changes. Gone is the sweet and caring mother, now her eyes spark with that of a scientist’s curiosity. She angles her head to peer at me closer almost as if fascinated by the way the medicine clears my head. 

I close my eyes feeling drowsy. The headache is gone and some of my memories are disappearing with it. For some reason, it no longer alarms me. 

“Better.”

I jolt awake with a gasp and sit up. My body aches from sleeping at an awkward angle and I can still taste electricity in my mouth. 

I am no longer in Optimus building. I am in a darkened room with a small cot to one side. Voices can be heard outside the door, male and female, and I get up. My limbs feel heavy from whatever static blow I received, and I catch myself with a hand to the wall. 

“...is she exactly and why did we kidnap her?”

A female voice asks. 

I strain my ears to hear and subconsciously inch towards the door. 

“I could just easily take care of her. Holding her hostage seems like a waste of time,” a male’s voice cuts through. I hear the hiss of a blade being withdrawn-

And the floor beneath me gives a tiny shake. “Don’t.” A female voice is cold in its response.  

A puff of a breath can be heard, a hand on the doorknob, and a male voice rings out. 

“She-We know her,” a strangely familiar voice replies. 

I blink and bite my lip. The door swings open after another pause and I have to move quickly to prevent from being hit by it. 

A man wearing a wolf mask raises an eyebrow in surprise as he enters. The others file in behind him. The one with a badger uniform looks almost hesitant as she comes close, the other two looks confused and apprehensive. 

“You’re awake,” the Wolf remarks. 

“It’s not polite to spy,” the Cat chirps. She places a hand on her hip as if scolding but her lips are pursed in curiosity. Like me, she has no idea what I’m doing here. 

“It’s not polite to kidnap people,” I hiss out. My voice is groggy and I clear it. The hairs at the back of my neck are standing up and my body is on edge. 

“You’re not a hostage, Val,” the Wolf whispers. He sounds wounded as he says it, his eyes shine with millions of different thoughts, and his hand almost raises as if to touch me-

But in the next moment he drops his hand and neutrality takes over his features again. The emotion previously in his eyes is hidden by a cold wall. 

“How do you know my name?” I narrow my eyes at him. I am not wearing my Optimus name tag, left it at my desk, so there is no way for him to know. My fight or flight flares up. 

I glance behind the group at the open door. My telekinesis hums underneath my skin. If I moved fast enough, a simple blast could take them all out. I could dive for the door and escape-

As if sensing my plan, a breeze appears out of nowhere and the door clicks shut. The Falcon figure leans against it and gives me a cold smirk. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and makes a sound at the back of his throat. Nice try.

I clench my jaw. There’s one escape gone. 

“What do you remember?” The Badger whispers. She sounds nervous as she says it. A part of her knows my answer yet she almost needs to hear it out loud to believe it. 

None of this makes sense and my temple begins to ache. I close my eyes tightly and open them after a deep breath. The pain doesn’t dissipate.  

“I have no idea who you are,” I hiss. 

As I say the words, a part of me feels like I am lying. While I do not recognize the figures before me, something does tug at the edge of my memory. They seem familiar somehow, almost like a whisper against my memory, but I can’t make heads or tales of anything. 

“You do. You know us,” the Wolf takes a step closer. His hand moves to the laces holding his mask in place. “You know me.”

With a tug, the mask comes undone. He lowers it slowly and peers straight at my eyes. 

“Wolf!” The Cat hisses a warning and moves to cover his face with her hand.

Duke Vale-actually fucking Duke Vale-holds up a hand to stop her. He never takes his eyes off me, and his lips are pressed thin. Hope shimmers in his gaze, but it is squandered when I fail to recognize him.  

He was right, I do know him. I’ve seen his pictures on magazine covers and celebrity gossip sites. Robin has gaped at his net-worth thousands of times and has teased me mercilessly for my dreams of kissing him. FeedBuzz ranked him the hottest millionaire bachelor in America, and his name has been repeated at Optimus for years. 

I do know him, practically everyone with access to the internet does, but something tells me he doesn’t mean that way. 

A part of him hoped I would remember something more when he unmasked himself. Now, a part of him is crushed. 

“Duke Vale is a furry?” I grit my teeth feeling very, very dizzy. My headache is growing by the minute. Something about seeing Duke’s face has triggered one of the worst migraines I’ve ever had. It gets so bad I have to sit down on the cot. 

A snort from the Cat. The Falcon bites his knuckles to suppress his own laughter. 

“Do you know who you are?” The Badger ignores them and inches closer. Like Duke, she reaches for her own mask. It falls away and reveals a beautiful woman I’ve never met before but somehow still recognize. 

I blink. 

“Is this like a Wonderland riddle? I know who I am,” I snap at her more viciously than I meant to. At her wince, I almost feel bad-

But then I remember these people kidnapped me and I feel a surge of satisfaction. Take that.

“Is unmasking ourselves a thing now?” The Cat tilts her head. She tugs off her own mask and I am suddenly staring at Andi Kim. 

Right. If Duke Vale can be my costumed kidnapper then so can she. This is my reality now. 

Another wave of pain beats against my skull. I press my fingers against my temples. My vision is blurry and the lights in the room are not helping. 

“Val?” The woman edges closer. “What is it?”

I move away from her and clench my fists. “Don’t call me Val-only my friends can.”

She winces again, pain flashing in her gaze, and looks away. I ignore her. My hands grope my pockets but my pill bottle is gone as well as my apartment keys. The only thing in my jeans is the butterfly photo from before. 

“My medicine-“ I gasp it out as another wave of pain crashes against my head. 

A rattle of a bottle sounds past me. The Falcon holds the medicine bottle before the light and shakes it so that the contents move every which way. 

“There’s no prescription tag and I don’t recognize it. What is it?” Duke is the one that answers now. He scans me from head to toe as if looking for something. 

“It’s my medicine,” I hiss. I reach for it. 

The Falcon makes no move to hand it over. He tucks it back into a pocket of his suit and hardens his jaw. Unlike his companions, he makes no effort to unmask himself or hide his suspicion. 

“I have no idea what this is,” he pats the pocket with the bottle, “And we can’t exactly let our ‘guest’ pop ecstasy while in our custody. We have a drug-free reputation to maintain.”

I press my hands against my eyelids. God this headache is so strong. I’ve never had one like this before. I almost break down but manage to hold in my tears. 

“Optimus prescribed it. It’s for my headaches!” I gasp it out and feel nausea. 

The room tenses and a heavy atmosphere descends. Everyone looks at each other suddenly very on edge. 

“Optimus prescribed?” Duke takes a step closer. His hand presses to my forehead and a cold feeling follows his touch. Despite myself, I lean into it. The cold ice on his fingertips helps ease the agony against my skull. 

I squeeze my eyes shut feeling inches from passing out. 

“It’s for my memory,” I murmur. 

“What’s wrong with your memory?” Andi’s voice sounds faraway, almost as if she’s underwater. 

The room spins. 

“I’m missing blanks in my memory,” I answer. 

Another round of silence descends. Duke’s breath hitches above me. He opens his mouth to say something, suddenly concerned-

And my eyes roll back. The pain in my head is so strong I black out. 

It’s Sharkweek and Robin tears into a bag of gummy sharks. Some B-rated Shark movie plays on the TV but I am not paying attention. My head is still a little weird despite the medicine I’ve been taking. 

“When did I apply for Optimus again?” My fingers prod at the bandage at the back of my head. 

Robin tugs at a shark with their teeth. It comes apart after a hard yank. The gummies are too hard for them to eat, but Robin insisted on buying them. 

“You never told me, Val,” they reply, “But you did talk about Optimus often. You used to get texts and phone calls all the time.”

I pause and bite my lip. I don’t remember anything. Frustration gnaws at me. 

“And Charles?” I glance at my phone. There’s a text from him inviting me to dinner tomorrow. I haven’t answered it yet. 

At the mention of his name, Robin’s lips purse. They had only met my boyfriend a few days ago and already the two were like oil and water. Charles found Robin a nuisance and Robin found Charles an “arrogant jerk with his head shoved up his ass.”

“You were dating someone,” Robin props their feet on the coffee table, “But I never knew who. When I asked, you said it was confidential.”

I snort humorlessly and trace the rim of my water glass. The shark theme begins to play on the screen. 

“I don’t remember much. I remember big things, but I don’t remember my accident or Charles or Optimus or anything else.”

Robin tries to line their shark gummy up with the shark advancing on the swimmers. 

“It’s normal, right? The Optimus doctors said you’d have memory problems. Just take that medicine of yours,” they shrug. 

I stare at the bottle of pills on the coffee table. My teeth work on my bottom lip. 

“I guess you’re right,” I whisper. 

Robin jumps as the shark on the screen attacks. Their attention is drawn in to the screaming swimmers and reddening blood. Once the shark music grows quieter, they turn back to me. 

Their head tilts to the side and they frown confusedly to themselves. 

“You know, I didn’t know Optimus had doctors. I guess you’re lucky you had your accident at their headquarters.”

It’s a full hour before I awake again. My headache is fading in and out and my entire body feels cold. I am shivering in my skin and am grateful for the blanket being tucked around me. 

“She has a fever,” a voice above me whispers. It’s the Badger woman again. She looks concerned as she places her hand on my forehead. 

She’s not kidding. I feel increasingly worse. My mouth feels like cotton and my head is pounding. 

Charles had often told me that I had to take my medicine every day no matter what. I’ve now gone who knows how long without it. My head is killing me. 

I hear the rattle of pills from somewhere deeper in the room. Duke’s voice is a low murmur. My eyes open long enough to see him discussing things with another figure. The figure is decked out completely in black and has a helmet hiding their face. An electronic male voice rings out from within it. 

“She had these when she came in. Optimus prescribed them to her and I have no idea what they are,” Duke hands the figure the bottle. 

The presumable man turns it over in his hand. 

“I’m not a doctor, Duke. I’ve never seen these before, but if they’re Optimus given-they can’t be good.”

I squeeze my eyes shut feeling dizzy. I’ve never had a migraine this bad before. 

“My head is killing me,” I murmur. 

The Badger’s fingers go to my head. She tries to massage my scalp, but I feel her hand still at the back of my neck. 

“You have a scar here. What happened?”

I clench my jaw. My skull is pounding and sleep is already taking hold. She must realize this because she abandons her questioning. 

“Sleep, Valkyrie,” she instructs. Her fingers raise my blanket up higher around me. 

I nod my head. Sleep is a wonderful idea.  

“Thank you, Lorelei.”

I close my eyes and am out like a light before I can even wonder how I knew her name. 

Robin hovers at the bathroom doorway and worries their lip with their teeth. They’ve been very concerned for me the moment I arrived from the hospital. While my head injury was not major, it has definitely taken a heavy toll on me. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait some more? You need to take it easy,” Robin stresses. 

I sniff at my arm. I smell like rubbing alcohol and medicine. My nose wrinkles up. 

“I smell like doctor,” I make a face, “Relax, Robin. It’s just a shower.”

I turn on the shower and stick my arm in to check the temperature. Robin frets some more. They look off-put by the idea. 

“You’re still pretty weak. Charles said to keep you in bed for a few more days. I’m just worried you’ll fall.”

I shake my head. I definitely do feel dizzy, but I can’t go more than two days without a shower. I feel gross in my own skin and need to wash my hair. 

“I’ll be fine,” I soothe. My fingers go to the back of my neck where the bandage is. I begin to pick at the edges of it. 

Robin stands up straight. “Want some plastic or something for that? You shouldn’t remove it yet.”

I wince as I pull it free. The hospital had said to keep the wound covered but I’m curious. 

I turn so that I can angle myself in the bathroom mirror. My hand lifts my hair up to where the wound is visible. 

Robin and I both wince at the same time. There’s a large jagged cut there almost as if by a knife. It extends from the bottom of my hair all the way down to the tips of my back. The skin there is still angry from the wound. Seeing it for the first time makes me wince. 

“Stitches,” I murmur. The hospital had to stitch it up. The cut was so deep a doctor compared it to surgical wounds. 

Robin shivers and gives me a pitying look. “It was a nasty fall. Do you remember how it happened?” 

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I don’t.”

My memory has not grown better in the time since I started taking my medicine. The Optimus prescribed bottle has been keeping me under for a long time. With it, I lose bits and pieces of memory more than gain them. Charles and the doctors say it’s normal, but I can’t help but wonder why I can’t remember even bits of my accident. 

The water is still running for the shower. I move my neck a little and wince. 

“I’m going to take a shower. I’ll be fine,” I move my hands in a ‘shoo’ motion. 

Although Robin looks nervous still, they relent. They give my neck wound a last concerned glance before turning around and leaving the restroom. 

“I’m going to sit right outside. Call me if you get dizzy or something...”

The next time I awake, I feel a bit better. Whatever building I am in has cleared out. There’s only one other person besides me still here. 

Duke sits at one table typing on a computer. I catch a glimpse of the ChatSphere logo before he realizes I am awake and closes out of the window. 

Relief fills his features and he stands from his chair. He comes over to me with a glass of cold water and a bottle of aspirin. 

“How are you feeling?” His face is cleared of expression by the time he arrives to me, but his eyes shine with warmth and concern. For some reason, he actually does care about my answer. 

I grit my teeth. My headache has cleared slightly until it is nothing more than a dull ache. I wrap my arms around my torso. 

“Where’s my medicine?” I close my eyes and do a mental count. This is the longest I’ve ever been without it. That’s not a good thing. 

Charles and the Optimus doctors had been strict when making me take it. Without the medicine, I can lose entire pieces of memories. I already have blank spots, the last thing I need are more gaping holes. 

Duke takes a seat at the edge of the cot. He scoots far enough to not make me uncomfortable but still close enough to be able to see me properly. 

I eye him wearily. There’s something familiar about him that I can’t place. It’s a feeling in me, deep within my bones, that tells me I know him. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know there’s something about him that is important-

Important to me. 

I shiver with that thought and draw myself closer in. Poking at my memory is like poking a hornet’s nest. If I’m not careful, the migraine from before can come back full force. 

“Bat took the bottle with him. He said he would look into whatever they were giving you. Do you know what it’s called?” Duke offers the water glass to me again. 

I take it this time but don’t drink from it. I’m not sure accepting things from a kidnapper is a good idea. 

“Charles knows the name. I don’t.”

I stare down at the way the ice sloshes against the glass. The sound is light-

And another hallucination comes full force. 

An ice wall is erected before me. A man in a cobra suit inspects it with his hands behind his back. He takes in all the angles and measures it with his eyes. Finally, he looks pleased. 

“You’re getting better at this,” he calls out to a man in a Wolf mask. This time I recognize it as Duke. 

My lips curl into a pleased smile. 

“Show off,” I sing. I watch as the ice wall fractures slowly then melts into a puddle. 

Duke has his eyes closed and is concentrating hard. His powers are getting stronger by the day, but he still struggles with them. Pride swells in my chest at the thought of him being able to keep the wall up longer this time. 

The Cobra approaches me and nods. It’s my turn to show my powers.  

I close my eyes and concentrate. It’s hard, but I manage to use my telekinesis to lift him up. He’s heavier than the weights I practice with, but I manage to raise him a bit. 

One centimeter, two centimeters, three-

My head pounds and my powers give out. I wince and press a hand to my forehead. 

“Sorry, sorry,” I apologize. 

The Cobra shakes his head at my apology. His face is entirely patient and kind. “You’ll get there.”

He pats my back and moves away from me. I color with embarrassment. Sometimes it seems like I’m the only one in the Syndicate who will never get better. 

A hand is placed on my arm and I look up. Duke’s face is devoid of expression, as usual, but his eyes are kind. 

“You’re getting stronger. Last time you couldn’t even lift him,” he leans against the wall with me. 

I pick up a weight on the other side of the room. It wobbles with my flickering powers but I don’t drop it. “Maybe.”

Silence descends between us. It’s a comfortable silence that leaves me at ease. I subconsciously lean into him and am relieved when he doesn’t tense. Instead, I feel some of the tension on his own shoulders relax. 

I don’t know what to call us just yet, but I know I want to be with him. It’s a deep affection I can’t shake off. 

He must feel the same way because he turns to me moments later. 

“Do you want to go ice skating?”

A hand is waved in front of my face. I blink and press my lips together. 

“Ice skating...did we ever go ice skating?” 

The question is past my lips before I can stop it. I tense when I realize what I have just asked. It makes no sense but a part of me is starting to believe that I really do know him. 

Duke’s breath hitches slightly. I feel something surge inside him. For the second time, there’s a hope in his eyes. 

“We did. I took you once ice skating with me back when we were in the Syndicate. Do you remember?” He tries to keep the excitement off his voice. 

I close my eyes. I don’t remember the ice skating, but I remember him asking. 

“No.”

The hope previously there dissipates. Duke looks at me and takes me in. I can feel his gaze searching for something. I have no idea if he finds what he is looking for, but there is something in him that wants to believe in me. 

“What do you remember?” 

What do I remember? 

Nothing makes sense. I was kidnapped days ago and have been forced to go without my medication. My head is a jumbled mess and my hallucinations are growing worse.  

What do I remember? A part of me wants to remember something. There is something major on the edge of my mind. A voice inside my head tells me to remember. 

I close my eyes. The headache is gaining strength again. Remembering is bad-

But isn’t forgetting worse?

I take a deep breath in through my nose. 

Remember. Remember. Remember. An old dream whispers against my mind. A dream of being restrained and sedated. A dream of green eyes pinning me down. 

I shiver. “Tell me what is going on.”

It’s an order this time. Frustration and anger is washing over me. There are too many unanswered questions. I will go insane if I don’t gather my thoughts. 

“Do you remember the Syndicate?” 

The Syndicate. There’s that word again. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve dreamt it and heard it at Optimus. I have no idea what it is. 

I shake my head. Duke sighs and glances around. We’re in some type of lair with monitors. I spot a holographic bat on one of them-

My breath hitches. How many times have I drawn that same figure before? My temple prickles. 

“The Syndicate is an organization Zeke formed. You were a part of it when it was in its beginning stage. We are dedicated to taking down Optimus.”

I archived that at the back of my head. It makes no sense, nothing about what is happening does, but I can’t dwell too much on it. 

I’ve dreamt of this place before, I realize. I’ve dreamt of this room, although back when it wasn’t this sophisticated, and have seen this all. For some reason, my dreams are beginning to come back to me. The pills I used to take numbed me to my visions, but the medicine is not in my system anymore. 

“Who are you? What were you?” I don’t know if my question makes sense. 

Duke discerns the meaning anyway. He turns his face away and stares at a back wall. His facial profile is familiar-

My lips brush Duke’s cheek lightly. A blush spreads across his face and I feel my own face warm.

“Thanks for taking me out,” I smile, “I had fun.”

Duke’s face is in a soft smile. It’s a rare treat to see him this way, full of warmth and emotion. I trace his features mentally promising myself to sketch it later. 

“I will see you tomorrow,” he murmurs. He turns to leave the park we are in. I watch him take two steps away-

Before he changes his mind and comes back up. Almost as if worried he will cross a line, he reaches for me and tilts my chin up. Before I realize what is happening, he is pressing a chaste peck to my lips.

Duke begins to speak and my hallucination fades out. I blink and find myself back at the Syndicate lair.

He’s still not glancing at me, staring at something on the far wall, and I can see the muscles in his cheek moving. His hand at his knee tenses just slightly. 

He’s in pain, I realize. I am not the only one who is hurt by the fact that I am confused. 

“I was your colleague in the Syndicate. We met when Zeke introduced us. You were the fourth member inducted in, so you always felt out of place. Zeke tried to curve that by assigning you to work with Lorelei first, but it didn’t work out. You two got along but Lorelei was too closed off and you told Zeke you worried she didn’t like you-although she did. Zeke then paired you with me. We trained together, worked together...and then ended up together.”

A pause. He thinks of more to say, I think about what he has already said. 

It is so insane. Every word leaving his lips is madness, the ramblings of a street preacher would make more sense-

But nothing about me makes sense. 

I am a person who is missing gaps in her memory. I am a person who takes medicine like a lifeline because her brain makes her think images are there when they’re not. I am a person who has just been kidnapped by two of the world’s most famous celebrities-

And I am a girl who is starting to realize there’s more to this story.  

Despite my best judgement, a part of me awakes slowly. It feels like I am finally waking up from a coma. My head begins to feel clarity. It is an emotion I haven’t felt in a very long time. I pause to take it in. 

“Do you remember anything? Anything about me? About your powers?” Duke inches closer. His eyes are still pleading. He wants me to remember so badly that he’s hurting. 

I move away and clench my hands into fists. 

I know how I got my powers, but something tells me that isn’t what he means. 

Charles has always been a quick walker. He strides through the halls with purpose and never stops to consider that I may be lagging behind. I grit my teeth and chase after him, balancing a few binders in my arms. 

“Is there a race I’m not aware of?” I snap the question at him as I dodge another Optimus worker. 

Charles glances disinterestedly back at me. He sees the distance between us, the fact that I am out of breath, and seems unconcerned. Rather than let me catch up, he resumes his brisk pace. 

“I like to get to places on time, unlike someone I know,” he throws me a cold look. 

I prickle with irritation and bite tongue to keep from losing my job. The problem with work relationships is that I am tempted to clap something back to my boyfriend without remembering he is also my boss. Whatever, I’ll just get back at him tonight. 

I manage to pull through to his side just as we round the corner. High school track has prepared me just a bit for how fast he walks. 

I open my mouth to ask him about the meeting we are going to-

Just as I trip on my own two feet. In my bid to catch up, I’ve lost my balance. The folders in my hands fly out of my grasp and go flying down the stairs. 

Charles utters a curse and moves to gather them-

Before I stop him. 

Almost as if by second nature, I move my hand. The binders levitate from the floor and up to my reach. I snag them from the air before I have a chance to process what I’ve just done. 

Shock washes over me and I stare down at the binders in my arms. Did I just-?

I glance at Charles still reeling. My mind is abuzz with a feeling I’ve never felt before. It feels like a muscle I haven’t used in years has just woken up from slumber. 

“What was that?” I glance at the binders and give an experimental mental jolt. Just like before, they rise inches from my grasp with just the power of thought. 

Charles pushes his glasses up. “I believe that is Telekinesis.”

I am so amazed with my abilities that I miss the displeased look on his face. While I am under the impression that my newfound powers are the best thing to ever happen to me, Charles looks upset. 

I beam up at him and hug the binders closer. Excitement prickles up my skin and my joy is almost palpable. 

“Is this really happening?” I can hardly keep from bouncing in place. 

Charles looks away and pulls out his phone. He is dialing a number before I have a chance to ask him who. He doesn’t reply to me, but I hear his words in a quiet whisper.

“It’s not supposed to happen.”

I grind my teeth together. 

“I know about them,” I snap. 

Duke winces just slightly at my tone, but I can’t  bring myself to care. I am suddenly very sick of not knowing what is happening. 

“None of what you’re saying makes sense,” I shake my head. 

“And does having telekinesis make any more sense?” Duke tilts his head, “The world is full of things that don’t make sense. We just have to learn to make them make sense. Deep down you know I’m telling the truth.”

I do. Blast it all. Deep down a part of me can’t deny his claims strike a chord within me. 

I stare down at the water cup still untouched and watch the way condensation presses against the glass. My throat works with words I can’t quite form yet. 

“Why then?” 

It’s another cryptic question that Duke somehow manages to find the sense in. He has a knack for finding meaning in me when I can’t even find it in myself. Perhaps that should be proof enough that there’s more to the story than just the line Optimus and Charles sold me. 

“You were going on a mission by yourself. It was a simple mission that shouldn’t have gone south. You left the Syndicate late in the night-I kissed you goodbye and wished you good luck,” a blush rises on Duke’s face although he tries to hide it by looking away, “And you walked out promising to come back. Except you didn’t. Something went wrong that night, something bad, and you never came back. Zeke sent out a mission to find you. He sent me and Lorelei to find out what happened. We combed Optimus for what we could, but they had covered their tracks well. All we knew was that you had gone in the building but had never left it.”

“How did you know that?” I blink and my hand begins to shake. 

Duke’s lips press thin and he moves his hand. He reaches for something in his coat. It is an object I’ve seen before in hallucinations and dreams. 

The object he pulls out is a red butterfly mask made of thin fabric. It has a large cut to one side, like someone has ripped it off, and there’s dried blood on the edge. 

My breath hitches-

“How about this one?” A man in a cobra mask lifts a small box up. 

In the mirror’s reflection I can see something red peering out of it. My eyebrows raise and I’m intrigued. 

The man walks up to me and lifts the contents up. It’s a red butterfly mask made from a thin fabric. It is like the one Wolf and Badger wear except this one looks like it has been fashioned to fit my uniform. 

“A butterfly?” I reach out for the mask. My fingers skim the soft fabric and decorations. 

Cobra motions for me to look in the mirror. I drop my arms and let him lean over. He stands behind me and lifts the mask over my face. It falls across my features perfectly, almost as if made for me, and he fastens the ribbons at the back holding it in place. 

I blink. The mask has a charm to it. It looks amazing when compared to the red and dark colors of my uniform. After looking for one for so long, it is a relief to find one that fits so well. 

“A monarch,” Cobra corrects, “the best butterfly.”

I trace the edges of the mask on my face with a finger. My lips quirk up in a smile. 

“So, what? Wolf, Bat, Badger, Cobra, and...bug?”

Cobra snorts and tightens the laces at the back of my head. 

“Butterflies are not bugs, Val,” he peers at my reflection with pride, “Try Wolf, Bat, Badger, Cobra, and Monarch. It has a better ring to it, doesn’t it? Besides, you’ve earned the title of Queen.”

I blink and the vision goes away. It leaves behind another feeling of vertigo and confusion. 

I suddenly feel very lightheaded and need to get away from this place. This lair that I am in is claustrophobic. I need to escape it. 

“We thought you died-I thought you died. I looked everywhere for you, Val. I called every hospital in the area, I had Bat hack Optimus files, I went on scouting missions behind Zeke’s back. There was no trace of you. Eventually, I had to accept the idea that you had died,” Duke squeezes his eyes shut, “It was...hard.”

By the look on his face and the way his hands shake when holding my mask, I can tell that it was more than just hard. 

I take a deep breath and feel my heart pound. 

None of this makes sense and I am very sick of it. My head is swirling and everything I know up to this point feels like it’s shattering. 

I need to get away. I need to escape. 

My eyes look around the room. We are alone and there is a door to one side. If I can make it there...

I give a loud cry and my hand holding the water glass and aspirin jerks. The glass shatters on the floor sending liquid all over my shoes. The pills skid underneath the seats we are in and in a crack in the floor. 

Duke jerks up. “What is it?” 

I press my hands to my head. “My head is killing me!” 

I double over and land in the water puddle. My face contorts in pain. 

Duke’s hand comes around my form. He lifts me up and sets me back on the chair. His eyes are wide with panic. 

“Take a deep breath-“

“Shut up! Give me another aspirin!” I shove him roughly away and bite my lip hard. When he sees the blood I draw, his breath hitches. 

“Wait here,” he turns around and goes for another door on the opposite side of the room. 

I wait until he has entered the room before dropping the act. 

I straighten and focus. The door swings shut behind him and I click the lock. 

Immediately, he catches on. His fists pound against the door and he screams my name and orders me to let him out. 

I ignore him and turn around. On his chair is his cellphone. In his bid to help me, he’s dropped it. I try to call the police but there’s no signal. 

Cursing under my breath, I watch the door jolt. He is trying to kick it down. I have no time then. With his strength, he’ll bust through it easily. 

Without stopping to ask myself if it is a good idea, I spin on my heels and dive for the other door to the other side of the room. 

Shouldering it open, I escape. 

The lair is in some type of underground subway. I run around for a good few minutes before finding a subway about to depart. I manage to fling myself inside it just as the electronic doors slide shut and the train car embarks on its destination. 

Once in the safety of the train, I can finally breathe again. 

I take long breaths of air and clench my fingers around Duke’s cellphone. There’s still no reception and I have no idea where I am going. 

I slide into a seat and take more deep breaths to slow my pounding heart. My eyes fall across the cellphone in my hand. If I can’t get a phone call across, then I may as well snoop. 

A twinge of guilt fills me as I slide open Duke’s phone-he doesn’t have a password-but I push it down. Since he kidnapped me, I think prying into his secrets are the least I can do. 

His cell phone is a model I’ve never seen before, he probably has access to technology that hasn’t even been released to the public as a millionaire, but I manage to find my way around it. 

My fingers fly across the screen to look for a way to contact the outside world. His cell still reads no bars and I grit my teeth. 

His phone is non personal and as closed off as he is. His wallpaper is the standard one the phone comes in, his apps are also standard except for a ChatSphere app and an app keeping track of the DOW and stock market, and his notes are empty. 

I grind my teeth in frustration and keep my hunt. If I want to escape this place, I have to know more about the man that took me. 

His cellphone contacts prove fruitless. All of his contacts are linked to ChatSphere, employees no doubt, and his texts are all business related. There is nothing personal to his phone. 

Biting my lip, I move to his camera roll. 

Unlike most people his age, Duke has three photos in his roll. One is a screenshot of an email from a man named Miguel, it details Duke’s schedule for the day and recaps a business meeting, the second is a picture of the ChatSphere logo-

But the third makes me freeze. 

The third is an old photo, the timestamp is years ago. It is Duke sitting in a restaurant wearing a white sweater and long overcoat. He is seated next to a young woman wearing a dark red dress that matches the tips of her hair. In other words, he is seated next to me.

In the photo, I am smiling. My cheek is pressed to his and my face is warm with a pleased blush. Duke echoes my own blush and his eyes are lit up with more emotion that I’ve ever seen him display. It looks like we are on a date. The restaurant is lit in low lights and there is a candle on the table. I recognize the wallpaper behind Duke. I’ve been to that restaurant before-

When Charles asked me to have dinner with him, I had been expecting a better date. 

My cheeks puff in frustration and I swirl my fork absentmindedly around my spaghetti. 

Despite the fact that this is supposed to be an intimate outing, he has spent the last twenty minutes with his nose buried in his tablet. I can see him typing emails and creating spreadsheets for Optimus. 

Figures. 

I roll my eyes in frustration and wonder for the hundredth time just why we are dating. It seems like we have little to nothing in common. Perhaps the me before the accident had bad taste. 

I swirl my fork around and let my gaze wander out the window. Sunlight is dipping low as the sun sets. The world outside is awash in reds and oranges. 

“It’s beautiful outside isn’t it?” I nudge Charles gently and nod out the window. 

He glances at it for a millisecond before making an uninterested noise. “I prefer thunderstorms.”

“Of course you do,” I huff, “but I like the sunset.”

I put my chin on my hand and continue to stare outside. There is a patch of flowers outside the restaurant. They are violet and blue in color. I watch them with fascination. 

A lone monarch butterfly drifts through the patch. It settles on one flower before drifting to another. 

A smile tugs at my lips. 

“Charles, look, a monarch!” I lean closer. I’ve loved those butterflies for as long as I can remember. 

Charles rolls his eyes and looks very irritated for some reason. “Monarchs...” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nothing but useless bugs. I have no idea why you like them.”

I snap out of my daydream and close the camera roll. My head is even more confused. 

Biting my cheek, I move on. 

Duke has two voicemails saved. One is of a man’s voice who reminds him that he has a meeting for tomorrow morning in a conference call. The second is of a familiar voice. 

I strain to hear it although the recording is faint. 

“Hey, Duke...I’m just letting you know that I’ll be waiting for you at the park for our date. I can’t wait. See you there, love you.”

It is brief in nature, yet it takes my breath away. It’s my voice. 

The cellphone slips from my grasp and clatters to the floor. The screen cracks as it skids across the subway. 

The recording and photo are of me. No amount of photoshop and voice manipulation could fake it that well. For reasons unknown, Duke has those items. 

I press a hand to my forehead as vertigo sets in. 

None of this makes any sense. I feel like I am going crazy. Thankfully, I have no time to dwell. The subway skids to a halt and the doors slide open. I scoop up the cracked phone and shake my head. 

Worry about making sense of things later. For now, focus on escaping. 

The subway leaves me at a random street in town. It takes me a while to navigate through the unknown blocks before I come across streets I recognize. 

Once I find myself outside a cafe I frequent, I stop to catch my breath. My heart is hammering in my chest and my mind is racing a million miles. 

The story that Duke told me is insane and impossible, but evidence proves otherwise. Duke’s cellphone has photos and recordings of me, my dreams have shown me bits and pieces to corroborate his story, and my own gut tells me he’s not lying. The medicine I’ve been taking has long since washed out of my system and my mind is finally left to delve into the corners it hadn’t been allowed to access before. 

I press my back into the building’s wall. The cafe is closed for the night so I have to make a choice. 

I can either dial the police and tell them that Duke Vale kidnapped me, or I can run and find Charles to help straighten my mind out. 

The first option is ridiculous. No one would believe the raving madwoman that one of the most prominent millionaires in the country kidnapped her, his PR team would shut down my story before the police could even arrive, so the second one is my only choice. 

In the distance I can see Optimus Tower skimming the skyline. If I run, I can make it there on time. Hopefully Charles will be there. 

I take a step to head there-

Then the cellphone in my hand rings. 

I stare down at the caller ID but it is unknown. Answering Duke’s phone feels wrong, I have no explanation as to why I have the cell in case a ChatSphere employee calls, so I let the call go to voicemail. 

Once it does, I relax-

But then it rings again. Whoever is on the other line really wants to talk. 

I bite my lip. If I continue to ignore the call, someone might get worried and send a search party for Duke. I have to answer it. At worse, i can pretend to be his girlfriend and badmouth him. 

I slide my finger across the screen to accept the call. 

Duke’s voice rings from the other end. He comes out garbled, almost as if cell reception is weak where he is. 

“You took my cellphone,” he says. It’s not an accusation, just an observation. 

“You kidnapped me,” I retort. 

I glance behind me but don’t see him. Without wasting more time, I bolt it towards Optimus Tower. 

“What do you want with me?” My voice comes out breathless as I run. 

“I just want to talk, Val. Where are you?” 

I grit my teeth. “You’re tracking the phone aren’t you? You know where I am.”

He doesn’t deny it. He is tracking my location. His cellphone has a “Find Me” feature. Great. I debate hanging up and chucking it in a garbage can. 

“Just...can we just talk? My apartment is near you. Turn the other way and head up North-“

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” My hand shakes and my headache returns. 

You’re already making me too confused, Duke, just leave me alone. My mind is spinning enough as it is, I need someone to help get my thoughts in order. 

Duke takes a deep breath on the line. The phone almost cuts off and it sounds like he’s going through a tunnel. He is more than likely still close to the dead zone by the lair. 

I let that thought calm me down. He’s far away from me and can’t reach me in time. Just breathe, Valkyrie, Optimus Tower is just a block away now.  

“I don’t know who you are and I don’t know what you want with me. Just leave me alone or I’ll call the police,” I grind out. 

Silence on the line. I can hear him try to think of a response. When he next talks, his voice sounds very pained. 

“Valkyrie, please, I mourned you.”

I mourned you.

The words send a chill down my spine. I am reminded of his story from earlier and how I had disappeared. There really was pain in his eyes then, he really seemed sincere when recounting how much I had meant to him. 

My hand shakes some more and I clench my jaw. 

For a second, I want to reconsider his offer. I want to turn around and head for his apartment, let him talk to me, and let him tell me the rest of his story-

But then I arrive at Optimus. The building grounds me and sets me straight. I can’t afford to listen to him. I need Charles to help me. 

“Just...leave me alone.”

I end the call before he can say anything else. 

The Optimus work day has long since ended. There are no employees in sight and it takes me a while to find Charles. He is emerging from his office and typing at his cellphone when I ram into him. 

“Charles!” His name leaves my lips in a relieved pant. I fling myself at him and wrap my arms around his neck. His scent of coffee and hand sanitizer washes over me and offers me a small bit of comfort. 

“Valkyrie?” He sounds surprised as he stiffly embraces me back. Despite the fact that I’ve been missing for more than a day, he’s more shocked than relieved to have me back. 

I pull away from his embrace and take him in. He definitely looks worse for wear. There’s a gash to one side of his head where he had collided with the wall after being flung and bruises peek underneath underneath his shirt. 

I feel a twinge of regret. In all the time that I was in the Syndicate, I had never once remembered about his injuries. 

“Where were you?” Charles’ eyes narrow. He takes in the sight of me and I wonder what I look like. My clothes are rumpled and dirty, my hair is a mess, I must look like a zombie. 

The stress from earlier floods me again and I begin to tear up. I grab his hands as if to steady myself.  

“Police,” I gasp out, “We need to go to the police. They took me and they held me captive. I don’t know what is happening-“

Charles makes a shushing sound underneath his breath and wraps an arm around my back. His lips are thin as he moves me away from the front door and towards an elevator. 

“Where were you? Did the Syndicate take you?”

Charles calls the elevator and turns to me. 

The Syndicate. So he knows. 

I wipe away my tears and nod. My throat feels tight and I just want my confusion to end. I sniffle. 

“We need to call the police,” I remind him. 

The elevator dings open and Charles beckons me inside. There’s an electronic panel on one side where a floor can be selected. He takes out his name tag and swipes it beneath the panel. To my surprise, a new button lights up when he does so. The elevator beeps and the doors close. 

“What you need is a medic. You look ill,” Charles states. 

I watch as the elevator lights come on and we begin our descent. 

“Where are we going?” I feel unease fill me. 

Charles glances at me from the corner of his eye. “To see a medic. Optimus has some doctors on call below level. They’ll take a look at you and make sure that everything is fine before we go home.”

The elevator lights turn red suddenly as we descend past the lobby. We are headed for the basement. For some reason, panic fills me.

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. 

The air feels charged with something bad. My nerves are on edge and the hairs at the back of my neck standup. Every instinct is telling me to turn tail and flee. 

Zeke had said this mission would be safe. Zeke had told me to relax and just focus, but something feels off. 

I inch through Optimus Tower and press a finger to my earpiece. Perhaps I can call on Bat and have him survey the area for a threat-

But I never get the chance. As soon as I round the corner, the Optimus Emergency lights come on. Optimus guards pour in every direction and I freeze. 

I’ve been caught-

I feel a shiver run down my spine. The elevator continues to descend even past the basement level. I have no idea where we are headed. 

“Where are we going?” My voice is quieter this time. My skin has goosebumps and I am slowly starting to piece things together. 

Charles types something in his cellphone. He sends out several messages before turning back to me. 

“You know where,” is his reply. 

Whatever act he had been playing before has dropped. He is no longer my on-and-off boyfriend or boss. Now, his expression is devoid of emotion and he seems to be appraising me as if I were little more than a mission he has to complete. 

I bite my lip and glance as the elevator continues to descend. The red lights are still blinking and the electrical panel marks the buttons down as we go. 

I do know where we are headed, I realize. I’ve been down this path once before. 

I have a sudden vision of needles and doctors. I see a man with green eyes peering at me from a medical table-

And then I meet Charles’ green eyes. 

With that, the final puzzle piece in my mind falls into place. Years of memories flood me like a tsunami and my body begins to quiver. I know who I am, I know what I am, and I know what is about to happen. 

I inch away from Charles and press myself into a corner of the elevator. The thing stops with a shudder in its final destination. The doors open with a loud groan and we are suddenly in a floor I’ve only seen once before. 

“What are you doing?” My hands shake at my side. 

Charles grabs my arm none-too-gently and tugs me out of the elevator and into the floor. The floor looks deserted except for a lone light at the end of the hall. 

“Relax, Valkyrie, we’re just here to see a medic,” Charles replies. 

I look around and begin to plot. The elevator is already ascending up so escaping through there is futile, but maybe I can use my powers to get away-

As if sensing my thoughts, I feel a bizarre feeling envelop me. My telekinesis no longer works and I realize Charles is using his own powers on me. He can disable superpowers as long as he is focusing on one person. 

My lips thin and I drop my own facade. Alarm bells are ringing inside my mind and memories long ago forgotten are slowly fading back into view. 

I’ve been here once before. I know what is coming. I know there is no escape. 

“You’re going to erase my memories again. You did that once,” I state. It’s not a question. I know the answer to it and he does too. 

He pushes his glasses up his nose and looks down on me. His mouth is downturned in a scowl. “Yes.”

Not a denial. I grit my teeth and press myself against a nearby table. When I lean against it, Duke’s cracked cellphone bumps it in my back pocket. 

My breath hitches and I hope Charles can’t see the outline of it in the darkened hallway. There is no way to call anyone this far down, cell reception has to be weak, but perhaps he can trace it back somehow here. Perhaps he can find me this time now that he knows I’m alive. 

“Why do this? Why not just kill me?”

Please don’t kill me.

My fingers close around the cellphone and I let my other hand wander around the surface of the table. Perhaps I can wedge it in the space between the wall and the table. 

Charles glances down at his phone before looking at the lone light lit in the corridor. It’s streaming from a room and I can hear movement coming from it. Someone is down here with us. 

“For reasons unknown, Optimus finds you valuable. Why would we kill an asset with connections to the Syndicate? You’re the key to taking them down.”

A door opens and more light pours through. I see Sampson emerging from a room. Like Charles, he has dropped his own act. My carefree and kind boss is now replaced by a cold villain with a scowl on his face. 

I narrow my eyes at Charles. “I won’t help you take down the Syndicate. I don’t know who they are.”

The lie leaves my lips easily. My heart is still pounding in my chest but at least I can make myself sound confident. 

I take advantage of Sampson’s arrival to jam the cellphone in a space between the table and wall. It fits perfectly and is obscured from view. Hopefully the Syndicate will be able to trace it here somehow. I have faith. 

Sampson arrives feet from us and completely ignores me. His attention drifts away from me and to Charles who is still waiting for someone to arrive. 

“I am guessing the procedure failed?” Sampson asks. 

The procedure. How many times have I heard that one before in the past? 

Optimus had lied. I never had an accident or hit my head. Instead, my memories had been taken from me. I feel like an idiot for not realizing that sooner. 

Duke hadn’t been lying. Optimus had been lying. Now I have walked right into their hands. 

“The procedure was a success but her memories came back. We’ll just have to up the dosage of her medicine for next time.”

Their voices are analytical and I realize I’ve been blocked out. For some reason, that really infuriates me. I clench my fists at my side and try to push the fear rising in my stomach away.  

“I’m right here you know. Why go to all this trouble for me?” My voice sounds more confident than what I feel. 

Finally, Sampson turns to me. He seems to consider me for a long time. 

“You’re valuable, Ms. Gray. Optimus considers you a high priority. You are the key to taking down the Syndicate. What better way to topple an organization than to use someone with inside knowledge,” he taps his forehead. 

“I’ll never help Optimus,” I curl my lip in disgust. 

Charles snorts next to me. “You have and will.”

Before anything more can be said, Sampson nods at the room illuminated at the end of the hallway. He pulls out a syringe of something and inches closer to me. 

“Just relax, Valkyrie, everything will be fine in due time. The procedure will be quick and then it’ll all be over. When you wake up, you’ll be the same Valkyrie that you were before. No harm no foul.”

He advances on me. I back away but Charles comes up behind me. His arms grab mine and I am forced to stand still as the sedative is inches from my neck. 

Panic seizes me and I know there is no escaping this. The procedure will go through and I will lose what little I have recovered. 

My body shakes with fear and I lock my muscles in Charles’ arms. 

“Wait! Please! Let me say something before you do that,” I plead. I just need a minute to steel myself for what is to come. How do you prepare to lose yourself?

Even from behind me, I can imagine Charles rolling his eyes. Sampson stops too and raises an eyebrow. 

“By all means,” he concedes. 

I lock my jaw and turn back just so that I can see Charles’ eyes. With as much rage and contempt that I can muster, I glare at him. It is a small victory when I see him lose some confidence. 

“I just want to tell you one thing before I can’t remember again,” I curl my lip in disgust, “I faked all of my orgasms.”

Silence for a second before Charles rolls his eyes. “Real mature, Gray.”

Sampson looks amused but I have no time to dwell on it. Something sharp digs into the skin of my neck and my whole world turns black. 

My last thought is a plea to Duke. 

Please find me.

A hospital’s fluorescent lights draw me out of sleep. My head is killing me and my body feels weak. I blink up slowly until consciousness fades into existence. 

I am in a hospital room of some sort yet I can’t remember how I got here. 

I make a noise at the back of my throat and sit up. My hand goes for the back of my neck. A long bandage rests there and it is pure agony when I brush against it. Whatever wound I have sustained, it is bad. 

“Don’t pick at that,” Charles’ voice orders. 

I blink and realize he is sitting in a chair next to the bed. A tablet is open on his lap and his legs are extended. He has seemingly been up all night by the look of the dark circles under his eyes.

It takes me a moment to form words. Finally, I take a deep breath. 

“What happened?” My voice comes out groggy from sleep. 

I can’t remember anything past taking a nap in Charles’ office. My head is swirling and white, hot agony is stemming from the wound at the back of my scalp. Everything feels terrible and I am certain I’ve never known a pain like this. 

Charles glances at the TV to one side of the hospital room. It’s a news station detailing the events of the day. I realize with some shock that their calendar is marked to days after what I can remember. Just how long was I out?

“You had an accident when you were walking home. You hit your head pretty hard, but everything will be fine. The doctor said you’ll make a full recovery and he prescribed you medication. Your old one isn’t going to cut it anymore.”

Charles reaches into his pocket and pulls out a clear bottle. Unlike my past blue pills, the new ones are blood red. They clatter against the bottle as he shakes it. 

I blink up at him in confusion, thoughts are still hard to make out past the pain in my head, and turn back to the broadcast. 

The date still blinks at me ominously. I’ve been out for days. Why I can’t I remember those days?

“Was I asleep all this time?” I press another hand to the bandage at the back of my skull and am rewarded with another throbbing ache. 

“It was a bad fall,” Charles replies. 

I open my mouth to ask something else when the news broadcast changes. The stock market is being reported on and it seems ChatSphere has increased in value by several times. The news station displays a picture of Duke Vale standing before a graph of his company’s stock value. For some reason, his picture strikes at something deep within me. I have a flash of a wolf standing amidst ice before it disappears. As soon as it came, it is gone and I find myself unable to remember just what I had seen. 

I turn back to Charles and accept the red pill he is dropping into my palm. A Dixie cup full of water is extended to me. 

“New medicine?” I pop it into my mouth. This one is stronger than the last one and I feel it work instantly. The pain in my head recedes and I suddenly can’t remember what I was thinking about before. 

Charles’ lips curl up into something resembling a half smirk. He looks pleased with himself although that can just be because he is relieved I am awake again. It is hard to tell sometimes with my boyfriend. 

“New medicine. Don’t worry, Valkyrie, it’ll help your head,” he pats my hand and glances at his watch, “you should get some rest.”

I am too tired to argue. I lean back against my bed careful not to hurt my injury further and close my eyes. 

Something nags at the back of my mind, something important, but it recedes the more the medicine in me begins to take effect. My worry melts away in moments and I can no longer remember what it was that was sending alarm bells through me. 

Pretty soon, there is nothing left in my mind asides from thoughts of Optimus and getting better. 

[fume-knight-of-shovelry]

Inaccuracies

For @northwindpersonal

“…Angela, are you honestly asking for my opinion on this? Of all things?”

Doctor Ziegler winced. It wasn’t like Genji to react to her requests with such incredulity, but she supposed that the entire situation was so ridiculous that she couldn’t blame him.

What had begun as a brief glance at a game’s name and cover from the corner of her eye while visiting Hana had become something that Angela had never expected would go as far as it had. Now, she was here in front of their television, her boyfriend was exasperated, and there was no going back.

“Yes, Genji, I’m perfectly serious. I would greatly appreciate it if you were able to help me evaluate the authenticity of what I am about to show you.”

Genji quirked his eyebrow beneath his helmet: he always tilted his head to the right when his left eyebrow rose. He could survive without the helmet covering his face, and could remove parts of his armor safely, but he’d grown so used to his cybernetic body parts that he was usually more comfortable staying in his suit than going through the effort to remove it.

“Honestly, Angela,” Genji wrung his hands, the exoskeleton clicking slightly as the joints of his elbow bent, “I understand where you are coming from, I really do, but I think you already know how I will react.”

“Please, Genji? I know it is not important, but I would still appreciate your input, given your experience with the subject matter,” she pleaded, brow furrowed and lip slightly pouted.

He sighed, metal pectorals rising and falling as he breathed with a small rattling sound from where the material pressed against his skin. He could never resist that begging expression, even if she didn’t realize she was doing it.

“I suppose it’s not too much to ask, Angela. And you’re correct: I have some familiarity with the source material.”

Angela let out a tiny squeal of delight, narrowing her eyes and clapping her hands together once. Genji was suddenly aware of his heartbeat echoing in his ears, pounding along with the pulses of heat across his face.

He was glad she couldn’t see him blushing.

“Danke, liebling! I promise it won’t take too much of your time.”

Angela turned, and Genji was grateful for the chance to let go of the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. She bopped the power button on the console below the television, snatching up the controller with her other hand as she did so. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t noticed it before, but he realized that this was one of the newer console models that boasted “Infinite backwards compatibility”, which was a fancy way of saying that they played games that ran out of distribution before Reinhardt was born.

The legal jargon and development credits faded in and out of existence, and Doctor Ziegler rapidly mashed the start button as the game’s title screen appeared from the blackness.

----------------------------

“I would like to know who decreed that ninja possess magical powers. I feel as though I received the short end of the stick, in a manner of speaking, since I’m unable to manipulate ice.”

Doctor Ziegler stifled a giggle. She’d only just begun her first demonstration, and Genji was already pointing out flaws in the video game’s character design.

“Well, you have your dragon spirit, right? Isn’t that a sort of magic?”

Genji shrugged, one hand coming off of the plastic held in his grip. His fingers were articulate enough that holding the controller wasn’t much different than when he had his original hands, but this was the first time he’d tried holding such a device since receiving his silver-and-green suit.

Angela reached over and interlaced her fingers with his, and Genji lost his train of thought. Her hand was soft, and the warmth lacing through her digits seemed a stark contrast to his cold, unfeeling metal.

“I don’t believe it’s magic. My mastery over the dragon is…something I do not fully understand myself. It simply happens when I need it, and does not appear when I do not. I suppose it is not unlike a reflex,” the ninja mused, tapping the controller against the plate covering his mouth, “The only ones who might be able to help me better understand this are dead, by my-”

Genji cut himself off. He didn’t like thinking about those years; his rage, his frustration, his potential for violence. Genji was still dangerous, but he was more stable where he was now, and he knew Angela was happy that he was in a better place. Being where he was now was the reason they were able to be together like this. Angela didn’t deserve to have to revisit the past like that, on such a lighthearted occasion.

He took a breath, and Angela squeezed his hand. I know. But that was then. This is now. We are now, her grip seemed to say.

He started again. “And his outfit. It covers the face and masks the identity, yes, but everything else about it…the blue and the black, and the exposed arms? It stands out in a crowd. That is the exact opposite of what a ninja is supposed to do.”

Angela smiled, and her golden hair framed her face such that the sun appeared to be shining down on her from behind, creating a halo around the outline of her head. Genji tightened his hold on her hand, as if he could hold on to the image. His angel, lovingly gazing down at him, reaching out for the connection. Both for his sake, and so that she could move on from what she had left behind, what she had lost and kept losing over and over for decades and had now found again, in a different form.

A family.

Then he realized that the wall light directly behind her was creating the effect, and the fantasy faded as Angela began to speak.

“And I suppose that there are a great many silver-and-green mechanical men for you to blend in with?”

“Angela, if they’ve seen me, it is because I wish them to.”

She rolled her eyes and released his hand, but the gesture communicated no malice. Angela knew that Genji could get a bit defensive about how he presented himself to others, but a little good-natured teasing had helped him acclimate in the past, and it could now as well. It helped that she knew he wasn’t exaggerating: more than a few times, Genji had let himself in through their open window rather than use the door that he had a key for, but the neighbors swore that they never saw anyone climbing the walls outside their apartment.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“And what about this one?”

“No. That is not even how one uses a kunai.” Genji’s voice was firm and brooked no argument. Angela would have wondered if she’d offended him if she wasn’t familiar with the tone his voice took when he was truly angry.

She hadn’t heard that in years, and she knew he hadn’t either. Genji had turned the page to enter a new chapter in his life, and she was forever grateful that he’d chosen to share that with her, for moments like this, when Angela knew he was at ease.

“And he is too loud. What is the point of being a ninja if you announce your every move? I understand the intimidation factor of shrieking ‘Get over here!’ when pulling an enemy to you, but in such a situation I imagine that they are already terrified. If they are not, then shouting alerts their allies to your position.”

“I recall that you yell, at the top of your lungs, the moment that you are preparing to strike with your dragon spirit. What is it you say again? ‘Ryūjin no ken wo kurae‘?”

Genji nodded, and Angela could tell that he was smiling under his helmet. A tiny spot of pride swelled in her chest. She’d been practicing her Japanese, just like how he’d been practicing his German.

His lessons hadn’t been going nearly as well, but she appreciated the effort.

“Well done. Yes, I do make noise when channeling the dragon into my odachi, but at that point, stealth is no longer an option.”

“I suppose you have me there. And would you prefer this one’s fire, or the other one’s ice?”

Her boyfriend paused. His brain was not cybernetic, but Angela supposed that the idea of “gears turning in Genji’s head” fit him more than most.

“Neither. Both leave obvious damage and have readily available countermeasures. I would choose poison, as it is less traceable and more difficult to mitigate.”

“Well, then, I suppose you won’t be happy with who employs poison in this game.”

Genji winced. “No, I would not. I admire reptiles, but not to that extent.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This discussion is over.”

“Genji, it is fiction. Some artistic liberties are to be expected.”

“I understand that, but the inaccuracies here are too great to ignore! As a cyber ninja dude myself, I believe I am an authority on what elements constitute an actual cyber ninja! And this…Triborg has none of them!“

Angela blinked. Genji was standing up, gesticulating wildly, and she was briefly concerned that he might lose his grip on the controller and watch it go flying into their television. From what Reinhardt said, this had been a very real problem in his parents’ time.

“Flamethrowers? Buzzsaws? Missiles, rockets, and bombs? Where was I when these became standard equipment for ninja?”

Genji fell back onto the couch, breathing heavily, the filter for his voice having crowded out his regular speech pattern from his raised volume.

He paused. A thought seemed to occur to him, and he tilted his head at Angela. She knew he was raising his eyebrows at her.

“Angela, I cannot believe that this did not occur to me earlier, but…this game series is notorious for being one of the most explicitly violent in the industry. Why exactly did you take an interest in this game?”

Angela chewed her lower lip, a nervous habit Genji had caught onto early in their relationship. Clearly, she hadn’t been looking forward to this moment. For his part, Genji was flabbergasted that he hadn’t been thinking of this earlier. Perhaps anticipating the game’s poor depiction of ninja had distracted him from the very real question of “Why is my pacifist girlfriend playing the gorniest video game ever developed?”

“I…briefly glanced at it when visiting Hana several weeks ago. I did some research and discovered that the game contains something referred to as ‘X-Ray moves’, which purport to demonstrate the internal damage done by certain attacks.”

Doctor Ziegler couldn’t make eye contact with her boyfriend. Her cheeks had started to redden: the shame of going into the details of her guilty pleasure was palpable to Genji as she rubbed her forearm, and he extended a hand and placed it on the light blue fabric covering her shoulder to reassure her.

“Well, I got curious. Human anatomy obviously has not changed in the last half-decade, but I was wondering if changes in medical protocol might have led to a different-looking representation of internal trauma.”

“And?” Genji squeezed her shoulder lightly, feeling her pulse echo through his fingers.

“Well, the damage is certainly representative of what would occur if these attacks were performed on actual humans. The primary difference is that these humans get back up from them. Shattered skulls and ruptured brains are ignored completely! And I am not even addressing the lethality of ‘basic’ moves, such as the effect of point-blank contact with rockets the size of those employed by Triborg or even the force of the punches to the sternum used by many, many characters.”

“Let me guess: instant death?”

Angela nodded, turning back towards Genji. Her features relaxed, and she placed a hand over his on her shoulder and sighed.

“To put it mildly, though in the latter case there might be exceptions. But now, I am ‘into’ this game. I suppose, now that you’ve been reminded that it exists…”

“...That I might I play it with you? Of course, Angela. This small time spent on it with you has already proven to be very enjoyable.”

Angela laughed and leaned in to rest her forehead against Genji’s, and he returned the favor. When he didn’t feel like removing his mask, this was their equivalent of a quick kiss. She enjoyed the uniqueness: it felt like a private gesture that held real meaning for the two of them, and the two of them alone. One that could be done in public, but still have some secret significance.

“Angela?”

“Yes, Genji?”

“I am not going to play as one of the ninja.”

“I did not expect anything different, Genji.”

[wits-writing]

Dark Nights Metal #6 (comic review)

Here we are, the climactic finale to Dark Nights Metal by Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo. Earth has sunken into the darkness. The heroes all defeated or on the verge of defeat by the Dark Multiverse’s army of nightmares and Dark Knights. Every stop needs to be pulled out to even have a chance of containing Barbatos. Seeing it all play out is a ton of fun and worth the buildup of the 5 previous issues.

From here I’m diving headfirst into spoiler-territory to discuss how Metal wraps up and my few gripes with the finale.

[Full Review Under the Cut]

Two narrators are present in Metal’s finale and the shift from one to the other marks the turning tide of battle. It starts with The Batman Who Laughs observing Barbatos’s moments before victory and discussing how this all started with Carter Hall’s journals. He monologues about this to his captive audience, the chained figure from The Wild Hunt. He notes how all the heroes have been laid low or are being overwhelmed by their forces. However, the tide begins to turn are Wonder Woman calls out a war cry to the other heroes present and all of them get back up to continue the fight, including Plastic Man making a big show of his involvement after five issues as an egg. The turning tide of battle finalizes with three key events; Detective Chimp and the heroes who were scouring the multiverse arriving with multiple alternate Batmen as back-up striking at Barbatos, Kendra Saunders facing Carter to remind him of his heroic life as Hawkman, and finally, Wonder Woman diving into the World Forge to retrieve Superman and Batman. When the Trinity emerges, they’re all armed with the key to stopping the Dark Multiverse, the tenth and purest form of the metal that binds all creation, Element X.

From that point, the final battle plays out with the heroes having everything they need to facedown Barbatos and his forces at Challenger Mountain in Gotham. Capullo draws the final battle admirable with a lot of control to the chaos that could be present. FCO Placencia’s colors keep the heroes in brighter focus to contrast Barbatos’s appropriately darker forces, with Hawkgirl as the only one occasionally getting lost in the shuffle since she’s still wearing her darker outfit from her brief time fighting for the other side. With new journal entries from Carter Hall taking over the narration, the final battle is one satisfying payoff after another as everyone gets a moment to shine. Batman punches a Joker-dragon in the face and rides it through the skies over the battle, while using the properties of Element X to arm the rest of the Justice League. The other Leaguers each take out their Dark Knight counterparts in one strike each. Carter Hall finally snaps out of it and rebels against Barbatos. Hawkgirl strikes a fatal blow against the bat-demon. Finally, Batman has his final showdown with The Batman Who Laughs before the Jokerized Dark Knight can enact Barbatos’s backup plan to snuff out the multiverse’s light, with some unexpected help from someone who hasn’t been seen since the Dark Days prologue, the Joker.

As the Clown Prince of Crime puts it, the last thing The Batman Who Laughs, a dark reflection of the idea that Batman always wins because he’s prepared for anything, would ever expect is to face down Batman and Joker at the same time.  It’s a smart move on Snyder’s part to make this Batman’s big moment of triumph in the story, to defeat the darkest of these twisted Bruce Waynes, while keeping the ultimate universe saving of the finale as a collaborative effort between the entire Justice League. Their victory comes from using Element X to channel everyone on Earth together, freeing them from the Dark Multiverse’s influence and affecting the fabric of creation enough to open up the multiverse beyond the Source Wall at its edge.

Metal has mainly been defined by comic book readers as a book containing a ton of wild imagery. Though there is plenty of that to spare, what surprised me most about this finale is that it brought everything back around into a single satisfying theme. The events of this story were truly set off by Batman letting his fear of the unknown control his actions, it’s what drove him to steal Nth Metal artifacts while keeping the reasons secret from his fellow heroes. That unknown future also defines something the forces of the Dark Multiverse profess many times over the course of this event, that all roads (i.e. all futures) lead to darkness. It was by trying to pre-emptively stop that darkness by himself that Bruce fell right into its trap and by accepting help from his longtime friends that they all escaped it to fight back.

The epilogue closing the story out, drawn by Mikel Janin, Alvaro Martinez and Raul Fernandez with James Tynion IV joining in as co-writer, spells out some of Metal’s consequences. The denouement takes the form of one of my favorite superhero comics tropes, the Justice League all enjoying a dinner party together to reflect on what they just went through. The artistic shift from Capullo to the epilogue’s team reflect the end of the chaos that’s been happening in Metal since issue one, since the art is not as chaotic or stylized in the final pages as the rest of the event. We get some brief hints at things to come in the DC Universe, contextualized as Carter Hall’s catalogue of visions he had while in the thrall of the Dark Multiverse, and most of it’s not too surprising if you’ve been following DC Comics news for the past few months. The focus is on setting up for Scott Snyder’s upcoming tenure on the main Justice League book, which will be preceded by the four issue No Justice miniseries in May. But all of that is small potatoes compared to this event ending on the heroes rocking out to the musical stylings of Damian Wayne and Jon Kent, with Alfred backing them up on drums.

If this is just a taste of what Snyder has in store on Justice League, I’m sold hook, line, and sinker. But this finale still has issues, like how Element X could potentially be read as too easy a fix for the conflict or how the person The Batman Who Laughs had chained up this whole time was just some random Monitor, referred to as the Over-Monitor, and not specifically Nix Uotan, as many news outlets and fans have theorized. Where the Gorilla Justice League from The Wild Hunt went after their promise to help is anyone’s guess, but it’s understandable that something so seemingly random from a tie-in wouldn’t come in out of nowhere in the main miniseries.

Overall, Metal is a solid event comic and one of the best of its kind in years. It’s been a ton of fun and I’d highly recommend this to anyone, so long as they don’t mind getting thrown into the deep end of how crazy superhero comics can get.

[deathbylowden]

Love You Goodbye

Just a little something I wrote. Enjoy!

You kick off each of the black suede heels you’d worn out to dinner that nigh and head straight for the bedroom, with Jack close behind. You can hear him shedding the button down you always swear makes his eyes ten times bluer. You take out your earrings and brush a hand through your hair before struggling to unzip your dress. Jack’s lips graze the skin of your bare shoulder as his fingers slowly take over work on sliding the metal zipper down the side of your body. He kisses you once, twice and then you step away. Leaving the dress in a puddle on the bedroom floor, but you spin out of his touch too fast, and he instantly knows that’s somethings wrong. He can already see the tears pooling in your mascara-coated eyelashes as you turn toward the bathroom. He catches your wrist just as you turn away. 

“Hey,” he coaxes, his voice gentle and sweet. He brings you closer. One hand on your hip, the other hand cupping your opposite cheek. His thumb catches a tear as it falls onto your flush cheeks. His eyes are shining but it’s not the usual gleam you find in his pacific colored irises. There’s pain in his eyes and heartbreak— over being away from you, again. He loved his job, but he also loved you. That love, it seemed, only multiplying with every day you spent apart. You shake your head at him, silently disappearing into the bathroom. 

Ten minutes later you find Jack perched on the edge of the bed. His head is in his hands. You can see his fingers rubbing at his temples where his hair runs into his face. His clothes are gone. Now abandoned in a heap on the floor near his dresser. His black boxer-briefs all that’s left on his otherwise bare body. You watch him as you cross quietly to your side of the bed. Sliding between the bedsheets, you watch him do the same. He mirrors your actions from his half of the bed. And tucks one arm beneath his head while he stares at you. You wear a solemn smile on your face as you stare back at him. Something in your eyes reminding him of the first time you met. 

He could still hear the roar of the bass as it echoed wildly through the venue. One of his hands was tucked into the front pocket of his jeans while the other gripped a plastic cup half full of beer. A girl stood not four feet from him. Her hands thrown high in the air, eyes closed as she threw herself into the music. Jack instantly smiled. He hadn’t seen someone so into a performance before. When her eyes finally opened, she spotted a grinning Jack watching from nearby. She smiled the softest smile he’d ever seen and ducked her head when he raised his cup in her direction. The smirk he wore was enough to knock her off her feet. Jack made his way closer. 

“What kind of pretty girl like ye goes to a rock concert alone?” He smirked. She shrugged simply, pulling back just enough to look at him. 

“The single kind,” she replied, her lips so close to the side of his face she could almost feel his skin brush against them. “The kind looking to meet a handsome Scottish guy.” She continued, smirking triumphantly this time. The band transitioned into another song. His single mystery girl once again throwing her hands in the air before she twirled in a circle right next to him. Laughter hugged her smiling lips. Her eyes shining with ease behind her long black lashes. “I love this song!” She sang happily. His heart was dancing in his chest the whole rest of that night. His body aching the whole cab ride to her apartment even later that night. His hands desperate and searching her body. His fingertips trying to soak up the feeling of her bare skin beneath him. Trying to memorize the girl he was already falling for. 

Laying side-by-side in your big bed, Jack’s foot finds yours. Tangling with yours, your fingers clutching the covers as he inches closer. He strokes a thumb along your jawline, asking you what’s on your mind. 

“Please talk to me love. Tell me why ye’re so sad…” You shake your head, but quietly answer his pleading look. 

“I don’t want you to have to leave tomorrow,” you admit solemnly. Eyes now trained on the bunched up sheets between your closed palms. Lower lip trapped between pinched teeth. You didn’t want to bring down the evening with talk of goodbye. You didn’t want to cry tonight. Tonight you just wanted to hold him and feel him. To kiss him and whisper secret words into his flesh. For tonight you wanted the chance to fall asleep with your head on his chest, blissfully numb to what tomorrow would hold. So, you kissed him. Lips crushing to lips as you worked to straddle his hips. Your body on top of his, torsos pressed close beneath the covers. Jack’s hands immediately reach for you. Finding the curve of your spine. Fingertips pushing up the fabric of your sleep shirt in search of bare skin. Trailing each digit in slow succession all the way up your back, he holds you close. Lacing themselves desperately into your silky hair. You can feel the pounding of his heart where it fights against his ribcage. His bare skin is addictive to your personality. You can’t get enough even as he switches positions and pins your body to the mattress. His lips ghost your ear before resting at the side of your neck. You hear him whisper into the arch of your neck. 

“I don’t want to leave ye, either,” he confesses on a quiet breath. A heavy tear drips from each eye. And then Jack is kissing you again. Kissing every inch of skin he can reach. Desperate to get the clothing from your back. Desperate to be closer. And then, there was no more space between you. He entered you so carefully, each thrust slow— deliberate — and so passionately. His body was heavy against yours. Skin growing warm, and sticking to yours as he pinned your body to the sheets. Your breathing was ragged and labored with every move he made. Your lust oozing from every pore in your sweat slicked skin. 

“Jack…” His name came out like a whimper, falling from your parted lips on a shaky breath. “‘More,” you moaned— pleaded— unable to speak as he lifted your back from the bed and forced himself even deeper. Your heart was pounding wildly against your ribcage. Eyes screwed shut with a blinding force. Your nails raking harsh lines across the length of his bare back while you forced your back higher off the mattress. 

“So go—od,” Jack all but growled, his lips latching desperately onto the skin of your neck. “Yer’re s—so beautiful,” he panted through tightened jaw. Moving in a sloppy path, his teeth dragging across your bare shoulder. He was sure to be leaving bruises in his wake. A beautiful reminder of his love, coming in the form of organic purple markings. He was being rougher than usual. But you didn’t much care. You were lost in him. Lost in his touch. Wanting to hold onto this moment forever. Needing to remember the way his hands felt as they desperately roamed every inch of skin he could reach. Needing to savor this moment forever, filing it away in a special place in your memory. Because in a few hours he would be gone. You, left alone in this bed. Left with nothing but the ghost of his touch. In a few short hours you’d both be saying goodbye in new ways. Using your words instead of your bodies. But for tonight — while darkness still coated the sky in inky shades of blue — you had this moment. You had right now, and the feeling of being impossibly close to him. Bodies choreographed as one, in a dance only the two of you knew. As his parted lips slotted against yours, you could feel the rumble of his labored grunts slip down your throat. 

“I love ye,” he managed to say, “I love ye so much.” He was holding nothing back. Sparing no kiss — No touch. He brought the love he felt for you to the surface of himself, inking it onto your skin with each kiss. This act was more than just sex. More than just bodies colliding and hips thrusting. More than hot kisses on sweaty skin. This was a profession of love — a promise — for the future. A promise, for his return.